


I know that you love one

by theaeblackthorn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anonymous Sex, Bonding, Bromance to Romance, Casual Sex, Couch Cuddles, Developing Relationship, Drunk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Families of Choice, Feelings, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Fuckbuddies, Hale Family Feels, Homesickness, Loneliness, M/M, New York, Polyamory, Romantic Friendship, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, University, reckless behaviour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:37:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 43,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theaeblackthorn/pseuds/theaeblackthorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles loves fucking Derek almost as much as he loves hanging out with Cora. He just kind of wishes Cora wasn't so hot, and Derek wasn't so cool. It'd be really easy to fall in love with both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You can skip to the end for more detailed warnings and notes about the fic, but it may have spoilers, the tags on it are your best general guide to what this fic is going to contain, but if you have any queries or specific issues I'd skip to the end to check the warnings. If I've not warned for something and you feel I should, please let me know. 
> 
> Massive thank you to [tuesdaymidnight](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaymidnight/pseuds/tuesdaymidnight) for beta'ing at incredible speed, and [slumber](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Slumber/pseuds/Slumber) for putting up with emails going, 'but I don't understand why Cora is doing x, help me!' and helping mould the fic into what it is. And for everyone on twitter, and elsewhere, that listened to me rant endlessly about this. 
> 
> Art is brought to you by the fantastically talented [puckboum](http://puckboum.livejournal.com)! [Art masterpost](http://puckboum.livejournal.com/18203.html).
> 
>  For poly bigbang!
> 
>  **Warnings/notes (contains spoilers):** Stiles has sex with lots of guys, and some girls, most of it is mentioned in passing, one specific incident is in a little bit more detail. The guy is actually Mike from Suits, you don't need to know that, but he's a little older, probably 28/29, and Stiles is 20. 
> 
> Stiles has a lot of sex when he's high/drunk. 
> 
> Stiles takes pills from people he barely knows, drinks from strangers and is overall very reckless. 
> 
> Derek has his canon backstory with Kate. Cora's actions at one point are revealed to be a little malicious and manipulative, but she's confessing as she's sorry for how she felt. It wouldn't have changed what happened anyway. 
> 
> Stiles thinks about Cora when he's 'dating' Derek, and Derek when he's 'dating' Cora. He feels bad about it, and ends up confessing to Cora. 
> 
> If you have squicks about people with multiple people, this probably isn't the fic for you, sorry. 
> 
> The end game of the fic is Sterek, and Stora. There's no incest even hinted to.

  
  
Art by [puckboum](http://puckboum.livejournal.com)  


The florescent lights of the gym are bright after the dark of the chilly New York night, it's startling, like wandering into a convenience store on the way home from a club. He'd gotten the gym membership because there was a deal for students, and, fine, he could do with being a little more toned. Except during his first session he'd been confronted with the most perfect fucking specimens of mankind, and Jesus how was he supposed to sweat and work out in front of them?

It wasn't a problem, because the gym was 24 hours, part of the “let's lure all the students” package. So, he could go after work, late at night when he had way too much energy to burn off. At least, that was the theory: go to the gym, work out, sleep soundly. 

The music is quiet and eerie, some ridiculous work out songs that make Stiles feel like he's in the comedic scene in the middle of a horror movie where real life butts up against the chaos and carnage. He might have double checked the locker room for zombies, and bloodstains. 

All of the machines are silent, except for one guy on the cross-trainer in the corner working it like, well, like he knows what the hell he's doing. Don't stare, don't stare, do not stare, fuck, now he can't stop staring at the guy, tank tops that tight should be fucking illegal, and shouldn't it be wrong for someone's ass to look that good in sweatpants? 

Stiles follows the lines of the guy's back up and fuck he's boner-worthy. He follows muscular, shoulders up to a very, very fine neck, stubble that fuck, that's got to be designer, look at the tendons in that neck, those muscles. Oh shit. Boner. He catches the guy's eye and oh shit, the guy is looking at him. That might be a fear boner, because holy shit hot and glarey is staring right at him. (Lies, it's not a fear boner.)

Sweatpants are pretty shit for hiding boners so he reaches for his towel, holding it artfully in front of him. Maybe tonight is not the night for late-night exercise. He glances over his shoulder toward the changing rooms. Maybe he should cut his losses and run. Would it be weird if he walked straight back in there?

Hot and glarey is looking him right in the eye, and quirks an eyebrow. That should not go straight to Stiles' dick. Okay, yeah, time to beat that retreat. (Oh god, 'beat'.)

He speed walks back toward the locker rooms, slipping a hand down his sweatpants to readjust his junk, because fuck, what the hell was a guy like that doing in the gym at ass o'clock at night? Probably why he looks like _that_ , his brain whispers. 

The bench is fucking uncomfortable, but he seriously can't go back out there until his boner dies, or, he could totally quit and go home. (He's not going to get any hotter if he heads home, or anymore likely to be able to fight off New York muggers. What would his dad say? Probably tell him not to fight, that statistically you're more likely to survive if you don't fight back.)

He takes a breath, then another, and tries to think about every unsexy thought he can. He kinda wishes he had a less overactive imagination and higher standards at moments like this. The door to the locker rooms slams open, and Stiles startles. Please be someone else, please be someone else, he begs, but fuck, no, hot and glarey is walking around the corner, straight toward him. 

The guy stops a few feet away and leans against the lockers. His tank top has a sweat patch spreading down the front, making it cling to his abs, and fuck, abs like those should be _illegal_. 

He looks Stiles up and down, eyes lingering on his crotch and his poorly hidden boner for a few moments extra and oh, _oh_. Stiles might get what's going on now. He can't get over how many fucking gay stereotypes are true. 

Stiles licks his lips nervously, opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes so he licks his lips again. 

He's not some blushing virgin. He's been at NYU for a whole year already, he's fucked people, he's been fucked, and, yeah, a lot were just like this anonymous hookups, but, well, the changing rooms are pretty well lit, and this guy's not exactly the type that normally goes for him. At least he thinks. He's been pretty drunk for a lot of them. 

"You wanna?" The guy drops his towel, and looks straight at Stiles' crotch. 

"Uh," _you're way out of my league why the fuck are you even talking to me_ , "sure. Yeah. Yeah. What do you want to--" 

There are hands grabbing the front of his shirt, pulling him up to his feet. As soon as he's standing, the hands stroke around, and slide straight down to his ass. The guy's not messing around. 

That's one of his favorite things about fucking guys, especially the strong, muscled ones like this one. Stiles loves to be manhandled; he loves someone to just dive in and fucking put him where they want him--as long as he's down with it. 

The hands don't waste any time. They just slip down the back of his sweats, straight into his underwear and grab handfuls of his ass, parting his cheeks. "Yeah," he mutters. "Fuck, yeah."

  
  
Art by [puckboum](http://puckboum.livejournal.com)  


Because random hookups like this are the fucking best, alright? Rough stubble catches against his cheek, and he throws his arms around the guy's neck, pulling him in.

It takes a second, but he slides his lips across a stubbly cheek until he's trading damp breaths with the guy. "Hi," he says, voice rife with humor because there's something absurd about being half way to fucking before saying hello. "I'm Stiles, nice to meet you."

The guy snorts, lets one of his hands slip down until it's at Stiles' hole, rubbing against the sensitive skin. "Derek, and fucking you is gonna be a pleasure."

Stiles grins. Fuck yeah casual sex. 

* 

The floor is even more uncomfortable than the bench, but shit, he's winded, whereas Derek's not even breathing hard next to him. Stiles gropes around blindly to find something to wipe the cooling come on his stomach off with. 

"Fucking hell." He wants to laugh; he wants to giggle, because fuck that was good sex. 

Derek's silent so he chances a look over and sees his head tipped back, eyes closed. Derek swallows and Stiles can't tear his eyes away from the bob of his Adam's apple. 

"You alright, man?" he asks, because quiet isn't something Stiles is used to. Or hanging around afterward. 

Derek rolls his head toward him and cracks open an eye. "Yeah," he answers, voice fucked out. 

_Wow, I did that_ , Stiles thinks. 

"That was pretty fucking epic." Sex makes him stupid, removes what little brain to mouth filter he has, and that? That was fucking epic sex. Stories should be written about that kinda sex. 

There's movement and Derek stretches, cracking his back. The tiles are cold on Stiles' ass, but he seriously can't be fucked to move. 

Haha, 'fucked to move'. 

"Yeah," Derek agrees, mellow as fuck. "That was good." He stretches again, and Stiles can't tear his eyes away from those fucking muscles. They're unreal; Derek is unreal. What the fuck is wrong with him, that he looks like that, _fucks_ like that, and is willing to do Stiles? Which... Stiles is not letting this one go. 

How the hell Derek manages to look dignified while standing up with his pants around his ankles, Stiles doesn't know. 

"Hey want to... we should do this again sometime. We're good together, it'd be a shame to waste potential like that." 

Derek glares down at him and ouch, he feels naked for the first time tonight. 

"Uhhh," Stiles backtracks. "Not that we _have_ to, just that--" 

Stiles shouldn't have worried because Derek's digging around in his tracky pockets, and pulls out his phone. 

"What's your number?" 

Fuck, where did, Stiles scrabbles around because apparently like a noob he'd locked his phone in his locker. ( _Yeah, don't do that_ , Derek tells him. We've got a couple of thieves doing the rounds, got a suspicion it might be the management. Better to keep it on you, or near you if you can.)

"Call me," Derek says, picking up his towel. "I'd do this again." This = me? Excellent. 

And then Derek's gone to the showers, and Stiles is still sitting sex-stupid on the floor, covered in sweat, ass pleasantly sore. 

Well, at least he got some exercise in. 

*

Stiles flops back onto his bed, Chuck, his roommate is driving him fucking crazy. He's got a paper on gonzo journalism due for Friday and he just can't fucking do it. Every time he tries to start his outline either Chuck moves or coughs or, whatever, and he ends up staring at a blinking cursor until he wants to punch his computer. 

"Carol's coming around later," Chuck says in the kind of casual that's trying too hard to be casual, and fuck that. He is not spending an evening watching them make out again. Listening to Chuck drone on about her is enough, thank you very much.

He digs his phone out of his pocket--he's got to stop wearing skinny jeans--and flicks through his contacts. He might have been here a year already but he's not exactly great at making friends, okay? 

There's the guy from his Multimedia Journalism lecture he gets a beer with sometimes, or one of Team LGBT--(he's got to stop calling them that--but there's an odd incestuousness to them that he's already so over. He never used to get what it meant when people said they 'didn't want someone scene', but now he does. It's pretty tiring having to remember who has fucked who over, or who's dating who, or who gave everyone crabs. 

He flicks past Brian and Dave for that exact reason, but lets be real, he's fucking kidding himself. There's no way he can stop thinking about the guy from the gym. He pulls up a message thread and starts typing. 

_Hey, got any plans for tonight?_

That's pretty to the point, right? Right. Derek'll know what he means. He goes back to his blinking cursor and blank page, and Chuck trying to pick what to wear. Twenty minutes later he gets a reply. 

_I think you've got the wrong number_

Uh, _no_. _It's stiles from the gym last week, dtf?_

Of course too-hot-for-him doesn't remember him, probably fucking too many way hotter people. He doesn't feel like getting dressed up and heading to a club, so it's got to be someone he knows. So, he's kinda surprised when the phone beeps again. _What the hell does dtf mean? And no plans for this evening_

Stiles swears to god Derek can't be that dumb--shit, maybe he can. It's not like Stiles has ever held a proper conversation with the guy. Having a dick in your mouth makes it kinda hard to chat. But someone being a himbo isn't going to stop Stiles. _Want to do something? ;-)_ That's flirty enough, yeah?

_Sure, give me your address_

Stiles glares over at Chuck. _No can do. Roommate. I can come to you? Think of me like Domino's._.

What the fuck was he even typing? Fuck. If it gets Derek naked and with him, he doesn't care. There's silence for way longer than he'd like, enough time for Stiles to get nervous. When the screen lights up, sanity be damned, he kisses it. 

_Would have to be after 9._ And then an address, in... not exactly the sleaziest part of town. Whoa, maybe Derek was a lawyer, or, a banker, not just another college student? Huh. Maybe he'd have to reassess his 'himbo' declaration, maybe Derek's a kept man and waiting for his partner to go out. Or maybe he's just old. He hadn't seemed old? But then, Stiles had been kinda preoccupied. 

A sock hits Stiles in the side of the head. "Stiles!" Chuck sounds irritated. 

"Dude! What?!" Stiles throws the sock back, hits Chuck in the head. Score. 

"I said are you going to be around tonight, because me and Carol, we got plans..." Urgh, fucking Chuck. He looks so nervous/giddy and, honest to god, Stiles doesn't want to know anything about his sex life. Anything. 

(Why couldn't he have made friends that he could have moved in with instead of being assigned a randomer? What the fuck was wrong with him? He shouldn't have blown Marcus. Things between them were good--they were friends and it was fucking awesome, just, sometimes he gets drunk and thinks with his dick, okay? And Marcus had been pretty fucking smoking hot, and the dude was like the biggest closet geek ever. That kinda made him hotter.)

"Stiles?" Chuck's hopeful expression makes Stiles want to stay in just to spite him. 

"Don't worry, man. I've made some plans. Have fun with Carol." He grabs his laptop and starts bundling up his books. It's only six, but he can kill some time in the library until he's due to go over to Derek's. 

For the sex, all the sex. Aw yeah. 

*

Derek's place is, fuck, Derek's place is _nice_ , there's real fucking carpet in the hallway of the apartment block, and (shitty) art on the walls. The apartment's high enough that Stiles actually thinks there might be a view. Maybe he should have worn something other than his college clothes; ratty jeans and a block color hoodie aren't exactly classy enough for here. 

Although, he doesn't exactly plan to keep the clothes on for long. 

Derek's already waiting at the door, and when he catches sight of the sweatpants and the tank he calms down a bit, because it's casual as fuck, and that's a pretty hot look on Derek. 

"You found it okay," Derek says, holding the door open and gesturing for Stiles to come in. 

"Uh, yeah. It's uh--" the place is fucking massive; there's a big open plan space, kitchen, living room, dining table, little office area, fuck, Derek must be loaded. He pulls his messenger bag over his head and lets it drop on the floor. "Dude, your place is awesome."

Derek snorts directly behind him and Stiles nearly jumps out of his skin. 

"You are freaky silent. You should wear a cowbell." Derek's hands are on his hips, big and broad. Yeah, this is what Stiles is here for. 

"Cowbell, huh?" His breath is ghosting against the nape of Stiles' neck. Stiles shivers. 

"Yeah, totally, so people know when you're coming." He laughs nervously at his own pun. 

"Oh, you'll know when I'm coming." 

Aw man, crappy puns. Stiles could love this guy. Derek spins him around by his hips and then there's a warm, wet mouth on his throat. Stiles' hand comes up to grab at Derek's head and hold him in place, because, fuck, his tongue is wicked good. 

Derek walks them toward the sofa, breaking apart when they get there to push Stiles down onto it. He's leaning over, kissing Stiles hello as he quickly works the fly of Stiles' jeans open. Stiles would be a liar if he said this wasn't hot as fuck. There's no place for decency here, Stiles moans, low and filthy when Derek palms his dick through the thin cotton of his boxer-briefs. 

"You are fucking unreal," Stiles murmurs, trying to pull Derek closer to get more of him. 

Derek looks him straight in the eye and grins, the most wolfish grin Stiles has ever seen in his motherfucking life. 

Stiles feels a grin of his own tugging the corner of his lips. "Oh it is _on_."

*

The bed's warm and soft and smells like sex. (That's a good thing.) He doesn't want to get up but fuck, he can't stay here all night. Derek's passed out next to him, and Stiles wishes the room was brighter so he could see him. 

The skin on his neck itches and it's probably fucking stubble burn. He's going to need to moisturize that. He can literally feel everywhere Derek had been. The skin of his thighs and his lips are both rubbed raw, hypersensitive.

Man, Derek's probably got an amazing bathroom, but tonight is not the night he sees it, he's going to have to settle for the ones at halls; he can't wake Derek up now. 

There's a little bit of light shining through under the door and Stiles heads toward it, tiptoeing through the room. Derek grunts and Stiles thinks, shit, I woke him up, but all he does is roll over into the warm spot Stiles has just left, curling around Stiles' cushion. 

It takes a lot to stop Stiles from getting back into bed, wrapping himself around Derek and refusing to ever leave. But, he doesn't know Derek, not really, and morning afters are always awkward, so fuck that. Stiles is not in for that shit, he is here for the hot sex and to avoid Chuck and Carol. 

His clothes are mostly in the living room area, so he heads over. He finds his jeans, and hoodie, but can't see his t-shirt or underwear. It's not the worst state Stiles has had to head home in. Tissues would be pretty nice though, because he really doesn't want to have to wash these jeans tomorrow--they're the only ones he's got cleanand if he puts them straight on, they're going to end up covered in come and lube. Should have wiped off on Derek's bedsheets. 

He scans the dark room, and awesome, there next to some girly as fuck pink candles on the coffee table is a box of Kleenex. He swipes a couple and wipes himself down quickly, then pulls his clothes on.

There's a picture on the table in a girlie little frame, and Stiles stops to look. He has to pull out his phone to see it properly; it's a picture of Derek and a girl, hugging and smiling into the camera. Something cold drops in Stiles' stomach. He flicks to the pink candles, and suddenly starts looking around the room. There's a cutesy throw over the sofa, some flowers off to the side, and as he walks over to the front door, he sees a shitload of girl's sneakers. 

Oh fuck no, he didn't sleep with a--the unmistakable sound of a key sliding into a lock makes Stiles back away from the door. Fuck, fuck, fuck no. His eyes dart around frantically. All he needs are his sneakers and he can run. 

A girl stumbles in, looking down at her phone and giggling. She stops, looks around in the dim light of the room, and zones in on Stiles. 

A second later the light is flickering on and Stiles has to cover his eyes. Fuck that's bright. 

"Who're you?" Her voice is downright hostile and, now Stiles can really see her, he recognizes the girl from the photo. 

"Uh... leaving?" Shit, he's got one sneaker; he just needs the other and he can make a dash for it. 

He glances around frantically looking for the other shoe, fuck, Derek threw it over his shoulder, so it must have landed, fuck, fuck, where? Does he need shoes? Of course he needs shoes. It's New York, of course he needs shoes. 

The girl, Derek's girlfriend? Derek's wife? Is walking toward him, nostrils flaring and then she-- stops. "Oh," she says. _'Oh'? What the fuck does 'Oh' mean?_ And then she's giggling again. 

"Oh my god, Laura will not believe this, I swear, she's been gone for a week and he's already bringing guys home." She cackles and Stiles feels a tiny bit of fear. 

"You're... not Derek's girlfriend?" he asks carefully, but he gets the feeling he already knows the answer. 

"Oh my god no, I'm his sister. Cora." She holds out her hand, but wrinkles her nose when he goes to shake it, pulls away. 

"Jesus, we do have a bathroom, you know." 

"Uh, I'd assumed? I was just... leaving... " He spots the other shoe under the sofa-- _how the hell?_ \--and pulls it on. "It's late, and I--" Fuck, fuck, excuse, excuse! "I've got an early lecture." 

She wrinkles her nose again. "I'd love to stay and chat, 'cause you're pretty adorable--who knew Derek had taste? But, I actually have a lecture in the morning, and need to shower off the club. So, nice meeting you...?"

"Stiles." What the hell? He can see Derek in Cora now. They've almost got the same glarey expression, how did he not see that earlier?

She grins. "See you around." 

It's not until he catches sight of himself in the mirror in the elevator that he realizes there's a string of come stuck in his hair. Way to go, Stiles, he congratulates himself, perfect fucking first impression. 

He spends the elevator ride down thinking about how hot Cora was, and what the chances were that there were more people in their family that hot. (And also, were you allowed to hit on the sister when you were already casually fucking her brother? Is there a code for this? He can't be the first person in this situation.)

The trip home takes forever, and leaves him with way too much time to think. He misses Scott, stuck back in Beacon Hills. It would have been epic having Scott here, but Scott hadn't gone to college. He'd stayed local to help out his mom, and carry on working in the veterinary clinic. Hell, if Stiles hadn't got a scholarship there would have been no way he'd've been able to make it here. Part of him wishes he'd flunked out, so he hadn't ended up out here by himself. 

When he gets home he showers, but he's still too restless to sleep, so he works on his essay. It's daylight when he finishes, but it's not like he's got an early morning lecture, so he crashes and sleeps through 'til lunch. 

*

Fall already has him missing California. He spent last winter bitching at everyone he met about the cold, and hiding under a million layers. Derek's apartment is probably the warmest and cushiest place he spends any time--much better than his rathole dorms. 

He might have been over a couple of times, because seriously Carol and Chuck are going at it like rabbits now they've got over the 'I'm saving myself for marriage' thing Chuck had going on. Stiles does not need to be any part of that. Anyway, it's way easier for him to focus and work after a bit of exercise--that's why he started at the gym in the first place. 

The thing is, he doesn't usually stay the night, he's _never_ stayed the night before. It's not because he doesn't want to, because fuck Derek's bed is perfect, and Derek is the world's best cuddler. It's just--he doesn't do that; he doesn't stay the night. Because if you stay the night then you have to have awkward morning afters. You have to talk to people, and then they realize how fucking annoying you are--or something. Whatever. 

But his dorm is cold, and Derek's bed's so fucking warm, especially the way Derek is wrapped around him. He's a little beardy today and every exhale makes it tickle a tiny bit over the crook of his neck. Derek's legs are tangled with his, and his arm's slung low over Stiles' stomach, keeping him close. 

It won't hurt if Stiles just catches an hour or two before he heads out, just lets himself doze here. He'll be fine as long as he doesn't fall asleep. 

*

Bacon, oh god he loves bacon. He stretches lazily in the bed, and fuck, that feels so fucking good, he rolls himself in the blankets and burrows deeper. There's that nice kinda ache in his ass that says he had a good night last night, and weak winter sun streaming through the windows. 

Shit. The blind in his room is broken, they never get _any_ sunlight in there. Fuck. He must have... Stiles cracks open one eye and sees a distinct lack of Derek in his bed, which, okay. There's people speaking outside the room, and that's definitely bacon cooking. 

His stomach rumbles like it knows there's delicious food on the other side of the door. He listens for a moment and places the voices, yeah, Derek and Cora; he's going to need to need pants. He struggles up into a sitting position and--oh, Derek's laid out a pair of sweats and a tee on the edge of the bed. 

Are they supposed to be for him? He squints at them for a moment and then curses. This is why he doesn't hang around afterward. What the hell is he supposed to do? What if they're _not_ for him and he walks out wearing them and looks like a total assumptive douche? What if the bacon isn't even for him? 

"Stiles!" Cora calls. "You coming out here or what?" 

Stiles nervously licks his lips. Well, okay then. 

Derek's standing at the hob wearing a pair of boxers when Stiles gets out. He didn't even know Derek owned anything but those ridiculously tight briefs he always wears. Cora's propped up on a stool, sipping orange juice and watching her brother cook. 

"Morning," Cora says brightly when he stumbles out of the room. Derek's sweatpants are slightly too big for him so he had to roll them at the waist a couple of times. "Sleep well?" 

He pulls himself up onto the stool next to her. "Uh, yeah." He watches Derek carefully as he takes the bacon out of the pan, because the dude's kinda quiet, not that he's normally a chatty cathy, just-- 

"Here." Derek slides the plate over to him, and now he can see the ridiculously crusty white bread, and the selection of sauces. 

"How do you know I'm not a vegetarian?" Stiles teases. 

Derek looks horrified. "Oh, you're not--"

Soon as Stiles starts laughing at Derek's bitchface. "Just messing with you. Got any ketchup?" 

"Ew, BBQ sauce all the way." Cora takes a massive bite of her sandwich and grins as she chews. 

"Nah, ketchup is totally the be all and end all for bacon sandwiches." Fuck, this bacon is amazing, Derek can cook? Maybe that's what Derek does. 

She swallows and takes a sip of juice. "No way, it's too sweet, not tangy enough."

"Derek! BBQ or Ketchup?" 

He pulls a face at them both, settling onto the stool next to Stiles. "Neither, the bacon's salty enough, you don't need any sauce."

"Urgh, don't be an idiot, Derek." Cora rolls her eyes. 

They bicker for a little bit about it, a little viciously, the way siblings do, he guesses, he's never had anyone but Scott, and they don't argue quite like Cora and Derek do. 

Stiles can't help but be distracted by fucking everything. Cora's pretty in the morning, in sleep shorts and a tank top. He's so close to her that he can feel the heat of her skin against his leg. But Derek, Derek looks fucking perfect in the mornings, all sleepy eyes and bed-head. 

This isn't anything like his other attempts at morning afters. He's not standing around awkwardly figuring out when he can leave; no one's trying to kiss him or cuddle him. He doesn't have to explain that it was just sex, it's... nice. 

When he finds himself laughing at Derek with Cora, or teasing Cora over some guy she apparently brought home the other night, Stiles thinks he might be in over his head, fuck it, Stiles knows he's in over his head. 

But it's so easy. Derek and Cora are snarky and bitchy, but they're not mean to him, hell, they're easier to get along with than any people Stiles has met in New York so far, and he's been here over a year. Derek's quieter around Cora than he is when it's just the two of them, happy to let her dominate the conversation. 

When he leaves it's with an invitation from Cora to come over for a sci-fi movie night. There's something about them that makes him miss home a little bit less.

*

Cora didn't exactly clarify if this was a Cora and Derek thing, or just a Cora thing when he agreed to the movie marathon. 

He knocks on the door to the apartment at seven o'clock with a meat lovers pizza in hand. Cora greets him wearing pj bottoms and a t-shirt so baggy and worn that it's clearly not hers--a boyfriend maybe? He didn't think there was anyone, bummer. 

They watch Total Recall with both of them quoting lines at each other, and he thinks, fuck, it'd be really easy to fall in love with Cora. Too easy. 

It's part way through their second film, The Cabin in the Woods, that Derek gets home. Cora pauses long enough tell him to be quiet and Stiles waits to see what he'll do. 

Cora and Stiles have been lounging at opposite ends of the sofa, a bowl of chips between them. Derek disappears into his room, and comes out two scenes later with damp hair wearing sweatpants and a tank. 

Derek lifts up the bowl of chips and nudges Stiles's into it's place, dropping into his old space, right up against Stiles. 

"Hey," Derek says and Cora shushes him again. 

There's an awkward moment where Stiles isn't sure what Derek's going to do, and then Derek's slinging an arm around him, dragging him into his side. Derek smells like his body wash and laundry detergent. The rise and fall of Derek's chest is soothing, and if it wasn't for the action on the screen Stiles knows he'd be falling asleep right now. 

Derek's thumb is carefully rubbing over his neck, back and forth. It might be calming to some people, but not to Stiles, he fucking loves people touching his neck--and Derek knows it. 

He shoots a curious look up at Derek, and all he gets for his trouble is a blunt nail scratching his neck. He breathes in sharply and tries to focus on the movie. 

They can't do this with Cora here. Can they? No. Stop. Threesomes with siblings don't happen in real life. Do they? No, stop this.

Stiles lets his hand slide down into Derek's lap, resting on the jut of his hip. He leaves it there, waiting to see what Derek will do. Derek, the motherfucker, throws a leg over his, moving Stiles' hand so it rests, shit, near if not _on_ his cock. Derek is sprawled over the sofa and it's positively obscene. His hand twitches with the urge to _touch_. He shoots a worried glance over at Cora. 

"Derek," she bitches. "Some of us are trying to watch the fucking movie. This is a piece of art, not foreplay."

"I don't know," Stiles says. "Have you seen Chris Hemsworth? Motherfucker is fine."

"Amy Acker is in this and you're focusing on Chris Hemsworth? I don't know if we can be friends anymore," Cora jokes.

Stiles sits up jostling Derek a little. "I didn't know you liked girls? I thought you liked guys?" Maybe it's going to be as easy as this, never a chance with Cora. 

Cora rolls her eyes. "Is this your way of asking if I'm a lesbian? Because I'm not, but Amy Acker is a beautiful fucking person." She pauses. "You're fucking my brother. Are you gay?" 

Stiles frowns, she's right, he should know better than that. Sometimes it's easy to forget people sit outside the norm, even if he does himself. "No, I'm--" _Not gay, I'd totally love to bone you, too._ "--bi. Man, ignore me Cora. It's just pretty hard to think when Derek's hand is that close to my dick." 

Derek freezes like a naughty schoolboy, hand wrapped around Stiles' inner thigh. 

"That's it!" She pauses the movie, and gets up, tugging on Derek's arm. "You're on one side of the sofa, and Stiles is on the other until the movie's over. Then you can go do whatever." 

Derek huffs, but Cora lets him take the bowl with him, so he can't be too sad. The movie ends and then they're getting up, Stiles stretching and bones cracking, and Cora, whoa, Cora is stretching and showing her perfect fucking abs. 

"You coming?" Derek asks, with a grin, nodding in the direction of his room. 

"Uh--" Stiles isn't flustered, he isn't. "Yes. Yes I am. Night, Cora." 

She snorts in a very Derek-like way, putting the bowl into the dishwasher. "Night, Stiles, Derek. I'd ask you not to make too much noise, but we all know that's not going to happen." 

He knows he goes beet-red, because that's what happens when he's embarrassed. He didn't think the walls here were that thin, they shouldn't be that thin, he can't hear the TV from the bedroom. How hell can she--Fuck. "Uh--" he splutters. 

"Night boys!" She closes the door to her room and she's gone. 

"Uh," Stiles says again, to her shut door. "Uh."

"C'mon Stiles, don't think about it." Derek tugs on his arm. 

"Uh." He can't think about it--the fact that Cora might hear everything they've been doing. He doesn't know if it turns him off, or... He tries to steer his thoughts away, because There Be Dragons, and other shit he doesn't want to get into. 

He'll be quiet, he can do that. After all, he's got years worth of practice jerking off at home; he can keep quiet like a pro. That kinda goes out the window the second Derek gets his lips around Stiles' dick. But Stiles can't bring himself to give a fuck because Derek's tongue is sweeping over the head of his dick; besides, knowing Cora can hear definitely makes it hotter. 

He might be going to hell.

* 

He doesn't stay over at Derek's often. Just, sometimes when he's fucked out he just can't be bothered to go home, and it's not like Derek seems to care. And, if it's been four months and he's not fucked anyone except for Derek, it's not anything; it's just that second year his course load's a lot heavier, and he has midterms and--

Fuck, fine, fine, okay, whatever, he likes Derek, and for some reason Derek's happy to fuck him, and sometimes cook for him. It's not a thing. In all honesty, he spends more time hanging out with Cora than he does with Derek. 

Because Cora? Cora's fucking awesome. It might be because they're the same age, or both from California, but they've got a million fucking things in common, and it's the best. It makes him miss Scott a little bit less.

Stiles is lying in Derek's bed; he'd had an evening off and Derek never seemed to work in the evenings. (Fuck, okay, fine, so he'd been fucking him for four months and he had no idea what he did--or who the empty bedroom belonged to, like he said, this was fucking, it wasn't a relationship.) But yeah, so Stiles is laying there and Stiles wants pie, or pizza, or-- something that's round. 

He kicks Derek's leg. "Derek, I'm hungry." 

Derek grunts and rolls over, his voice is heavy with sleep when he speaks. "So go get something."

"Bring me pizza," Stiles demands, knowing there's no real chance of it happening because--

"No food in the bed." Because Derek doesn't let Stiles eat in bed. 

"Urgh, fine, worst boyfriend ever," Stiles mutters, climbing out of bed, and fishing a pair of boxers off of the floor. He thinks they're his. 

He lets himself out of Derek's room quietly, because it's only ten p.m. but he doesn't know if Cora's already in bed. She's not, she's sitting in the living room playing Grand Theft Auto. He opens the fridge and stares dumbly at the contents. 

"I want pizza," he tells the fridge. 

"Then order some, loser." It's not the fridge answering, but Cora. 

"The good pizza place is already closed."

"See if there are any leftovers from the ones Derek made yesterday. He hides them behind the salad stuff." 

Stiles pushes some lettuce out of the way and finds a plate of pizza. "Oh my god, Cora, you're my hero. You want anything from the kitchen?" 

"Get me a coke and we'll call it even." 

He drops down next to Cora and starts digging into the pizza. This shit is good, like, amazingly good. Derek should be a chef, and he tells Cora so. 

"I keep telling him he should go to culinary school. He just never listens to me, instead he wastes his time working as a meat packer." She shoots a couple of guys on the screen. 

Oh, so that's what Derek does. Huh. He wonders how the hell they afford a place so nice if she's a student and Derek's a meat packer. _Maybe their family's loaded? Maybe they're up to something shady and illegal? Maybe it's something to do with the empty third bedroom._

They sit in silence for a bit, Stiles watching Cora smash her keys and cursing at the screen. "Have you got your copy of GTA pre-ordered?" 

"Mmhmm, got two lectures the day it's released, though."

"That blows. I've got a shift at the bookstore, but it's a short one. Thought I'd come over here after to play?" He crams the last bite of pizza into his mouth. 

"Yeah, I was going to ask." 

He watches her play for a little longer, before he's finally sleepy enough that he heads back to bed. It's late. There's no point heading home, and hey, maybe Derek will be up for something more. 

Carefully he opens the door, turning around and closing it as softly as he can. When he looks at the bed, he catches Derek's eyes open, watching him. 

"Hey," Stiles says. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I was already awake." Derek lifts the covers. "Get in." 

Stiles doesn't have to be told twice. When he's in the bed, Derek wraps his arms around him.

"Don't forget to set your alarm," Derek murmurs. "You've got an early lecture." 

"Thanks, _dad_." 

Derek ignores the quip, instead he drags Stiles close, dropping a sloppy kiss onto his jaw. "Go to sleep, Stiles." 

And the thing is, he does. 

*

The club is fucking cooking. It might be the middle of winter outside, but it feels like a freaking sauna in here. Or a tropical country, or a warm shower, or--something. Stiles isn't exactly in his right mind. He's not nearly enough beers into this, but whatever the fuck Jimmy pushed into his mouth is really working on him.

He fucking loves this song, no, you don't understand, he loves this song. What's the song? Shit, he doesn't know. There are so many people grinding up against him and Stiles struggles to remember what the hell kind of club he's in--gay? Straight? Fuck, who is he supposed to hit on again? 

It's so dark in this corner of the club, and for a second he wonders where Jimmy's gone, but fuck, it doesn't matter. He only vaguely knows them, they're some of Chuck's friends, and whatever. 

People are so awesome, he loves people, yes he's danced himself into a corner, but that's okay, because there's something soft pressing into his back and yeah, boobs, he loves boobs.  
He swings around and nearly unbalances, he must be one of the tallest people here, and holyshit LASERS there are lasers! He grabs hold of the girl's arm and points. 

"Lasers!" He shouts into the room. "There are motherfucking lasers!"

He reaches up to the fan of lines, cutting over the smoke of the room, and runs his fingers through them. 

He can't see the girl's face, there's too much hair in the way, and it's way too dark, and shit okay maybe he blinded himself by looking at the lasers (lasers!), but whatever, he knows she's bummed out about being too short to reach the lasers. Her hand's stretched up next to his, but she can't reach. 

"I've got a plan!" She probably can't hear him, but she'll get the gist in a second. 

He turns around, bends down, motions her up and then, hell yeah that's some pretty thighs around his cheeks. But fuck, whatever, she can reach the lasers! 

They dance and dance, the girl's slipping hands into his hair, tugging and yeah, yeah, yeah, he doesn't care who she is, because she's fucking perfect. Her thighs around his ears are perfect, the hot feel of her at the back of his neck is perfect, the occasional brush of boobs against the top of his head is perfect. Perfect perfect perfect.

It's been months since he's been with anyone but Derek and yeah. Yeah. Him and Derek are just fuck buddies. If you've got a fuck buddy that means you can fuck other people, so that's what he should totally do. 

The song changes, and before he can even realize it, the girl's hopped down and is pulling him through the crowd. He can't even see her through the press of bodies, but holy shit her hand is tight onto his. 

She's slighter and easily slips through the crowd, but he's not so lucky. He gets a cold slosh of a drink over him once, twice, and it feels amazing on his skin. Everything feels amazing right now. As he walks, his feet kick plastic cups and bottles out of the way, it's like the floor's a sea of trash. 

He stumbles when they make it into the hallway. There are people pressed up against the walls, and fuck, okay, okay, this is definitely a gay club. Are there rules about fucking a girl? Because the one in front of him, with the beautiful dark brown hair, is leading him straight toward the unisex toilets. 

Yeah, he's down with this. He is so fucking down with this, but--he wants to kiss, he wants to--he tugs on her arm, aiming to pull her in for a kiss. The girl spins around and fuck, what the fuck did Jimmy give him? Because that looks like Cora. How gone for her is he that he's seeing her everywhere? He blinks. Blinks again. Wishes he had a drink of water because his mouth is dry. 

"Cora?!" He calls, ears probably fucked from the dance floor. 

She's staring at him, nervously licking her lips. "Stiles. What are you doing here?" 

The thing is, he'd been like ten seconds away from kissing her, from pushing her up against a bathroom stall and fucking her until she'd been screaming his name. Knowing it's Cora doesn't stop him wanting to do those things. 

"Stiles?" She asks again, brown hair swinging as she leans in close. "Are you okay?" 

He should say something. She's giving him a concerned look, but he doesn't trust himself to say anything, because there's a fifty percent chance the words out of his mouth are going to be something like, 'Let's do it anyway'. 

There's a soft hand on his cheek and he loves Cora, he does, he does, he does. She's like Scott, but better, because he doesn't want to fuck Scott, okay, that one time, but, not like Cora. Hell, he'd probably even settle for just fucking hugging Cora. He can hug people, right? You can hug your sex-friend's sister? Your friend? Your sex-friend's friend? No. Yes. What? 

Cora fits perfectly into his arms. He swoops down and picks her up, so she has to cling onto him. 

"Cora, Cora, Cora," he chants her name over and over. He likes the sound of it on his tongue; he'd like the taste of her on his tongue. 

She laughs a little, but then--"Stiles? Stiles, what did you take?" 

"You have the most beautiful hair, you and Derek, your hair is like--it's beautiful, beautifully beautiful." Her hair smells good too. He breathes in deep and buries his face in it. It smells like candyfloss and coconuts and sweets and--

"Stiles, you shouldn't--you should put me down." She's stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. 

How has it never felt like that before? It's like he's a giant cat, a giant cat that wants to purr, so he does, just a little, maybe, no one but Cora's hair ever has to know. 

Cora shifts in his grip and fuck...when did he pin her to the wall? He didn't mean to, he was just thinking about hair, all about hair, her nails in his hair, and wouldn't it be better if they were fucking and she--no, Derek's sister, Derek's sister, and more than that. Cora is one of his only friends in the city, and he'd learned that lesson from Marcus: you don't fuck your friends. 

He isn't messing that up twice. Even if he is half hard, and pressing his dick right up against her. 

He drops Cora, stepping back. 

"Sorry! Sorry, I just--Hi Cora, hey. What're you doing here?" 

She snorts and it sounds so much like Derek that he almost wants to check she's really her and not Derek in disguise. He wipes sweat off his brow. Fuck, it's hot in here. A second later Cora's hand is back in his and she's dragging him toward the bar, then she's shoving water into his hand. 

"Drink," she orders. "You're burning up."

*

He's tired, oh man, he's tired, but Cora's still got hold of his hand. She's had hold of his hand for hours now, he thinks, maybe, it's been an eternity. They'd danced, and danced, and danced, and it was like the hardest thing (urgh, pun) ever, because everything inside of him was telling him to go for it, try it with Cora. But the other part, the part that loved waking up in Derek's bed, that loved stealing his food and making him smile, that part told him no. That part was also a filthy liar because Derek was his _fuck buddy_ , they weren't dating they were just...fucking. Very long, apparently monogamous fucking. 

Cora's makeup is smeared and she's soaked in sweat that most definitely isn't her own, and maybe beer too. He fumbles into his pockets and pulls out his phone. 3:20 am. Huh. How did that happen?

She tugs on his hand. "Stiles? C'mon, it's our floor." She's silent when she unlocks the door, and beckons Stiles in. 

"Shhh," she whispers as he knocks the shoes by the door. "Derek's asleep. You hungry?" 

He shakes his head and walks toward the sofa. His bones ache, everything aches, and man, he's tired. It's half the city away back to his dorm room and he can't face it right now. He eyes the sofa. He's never slept on it before, but it looks like it'll do. Maybe Cora'll have a blanket he could borrow, because after the heat of the club he feels strung out and cold, shivery. Maybe it's because he's tired, maybe it's the damp t-shirt he's wearing under his jacket.

Cora flops next to him with a bowl of reheated pasta. "Mmmm, post-clubbing snacks. I love them." 

She grins at him and offers him a fork with a couple of shells on. He shakes his head. What he really, really wants right now is a cigarette. He's only a social smoker, but it really feels like--wait. He definitely stole a pack from--he quickly checks his jean pockets, and fuck yeah, crumpled and damp, but most definitely still smokable. 

"Is there anywhere I can smoke?" He whisper-asks. 

Cora shrugs. "You may as well here, I don't want you out in the cold, and we don't have a balcony." 

He nods and looks around for a lighter, spotting one next to the candles. 

The first drag is the best and yeah, okay, that's better, the buzz is easing, replaced with a whole new one. 

"What happened to your friends?" 

He looks up sharply. "What happened to yours?" He has friends, just, sometimes, he, they--they could have been his friends. 

"I asked first." She grins smugly and takes another bite of pasta. 

"I don't know, I lost them, they weren't--they were just some friends of my roommate."

"Hmm. And they gave you something?" 

Stiles shrugs. "I guess." He's done with the first cigarette, and it's left him a little floaty. 

He kinda wants another. 

Now that he's coming down, he can think back to Cora, to how he nearly--a little bit of him wants to, more than anything. But, the same bit doesn't want to lose Derek, doesn't want to lose Cora as a friend. Their friendship is too important to bring sex into it. 

She gets up, and he hears the whoosh and clink of the bowl being rinsed and put in the dishwasher. Her footsteps get further away, and he thinks that's it, she's going to bed, oh well. She could have said good night. 

He's not ready for bed, not just yet. He hasn't seen sunrise from this side in a few weeks, and it could be beautiful. Cora and Derek's apartment has the perfect view, just high enough that he can actually see the sky, maybe he'll stay up and watch it. Maybe he'll have another cigarette. 

Halfway through the second one, Cora comes out. She's dressed in sleep shorts (fuck, don't look at her legs, don't do it), and a stretched out tee. She looks like a fucking--fuck, Stiles, don't. She hands him a duvet. 

"We don't usually have guests, so we don't have any spare blankets. But, this is Laura's, my sister's, and she won't be needing it anytime soon. So." 

The duvet is girly and soft, but it feels like a dream. "Thank you, I'm just--" 

"I don't think I've got anything you can sleep in, but there are towels in the bathroom if you want to shower, or something. I hate going to bed smelling like a club."

He thinks of her in the shower. He thinks of water running off her hair, down between her breasts, maybe a rivulet would skirt over a nipple, maybe--

"Night, Stiles." She leans down and kisses him lightly on the cheek. "Sleep well." 

And she's gone. He's got nine cigarettes left, and maybe three and a bit hours until dawn. He can do this. Or. Sleep. Something. It's a little cold in here. He shivers and lays the cigarettes out in a line on the coffee table. 

It's methodical, bring the cigarette up to his lips, inhale--it's so quiet he can hear the crisp noise of the burn as the tip glows bright red--then, exhale. It's calming, and the rush from the cigarettes has his hand shaking. He's not a heavy smoker, this might be too much. Is the room getting lighter? He thinks it is. 

He taps the cigarette on the side of the plate he's using as an ashtray, stubs it out because it's done. Right. Okay. 

Something moves in his peripheral and he startles. 

"Derek?" Is that his voice? He sounds so rough. "Sorry, I thought I was being quiet."

"You were." Derek's in boxers and a wifebeater--pretty standard. His hair is tousled, but it's not sex-hair. He loves Derek's sex-hair. One more cigarette, that's what he needs, just one more-- 

A warm hand is closing over his, stopping him from getting to the cigarettes. 

"I think you've had enough," Derek says, wrapping an arm around him. 

Stiles doesn't say anything. He was going to go to bed; he was going to watch the sunrise; he was going to smoke some more. Maybe Derek's right, maybe he should move, he's cold so why isn't he pulling the blanket up around him? 

"You're shivering, come to bed." Getting to his feet is harder than it should be, he's still so achey, but Derek helps him get from the sofa to his bed. The clock in Derek's room flashes 6 am. He almost made it. 

Derek helps him strip off his still-damp t-shirt and shuck off his jeans until he's only wearing briefs. For some reason Stiles doesn't want them in the bed, he can't say why, so he pushes them down as well. 

A little bit of him feels like a child with Derek undressing him. He wants to push against him, tell him he can do it himself. Except he's tired, and Derek's bed is the warmest place in New York. 

Derek's spot is the best--it's still warm with the heat of his body, Stiles snuggles into it. He wraps himself around Derek, holding him tight, and finally, finally goes to sleep. 

*

"Stiles..." Someone's gently calling his name. 

Stiles buries his head under the pillow. It's too much; he doesn't want to get up. There's a hand running gently up his back, a gesture that he recognizes, and oh, oh, oh, Derek? 

"Come on, I've got breakfast for you, and if you sleep much longer you're going to miss your evening shift." 

He yawns a little, but fuck, dry mouth, horrible, horrible dry mouth. 

"There's orange juice and water out here, c'mon." He can feel the dip in the bed where Derek's sitting. He lets himself roll over into it, gravity drawing him toward Derek. The room's dark but still too light for him when he opens his eyes. 

"Morning," Stiles croaks, urgh, his head, his voice, what the fuck was he doing last night?

The glass of orange juice is so close. "Gimme." He makes grabbyhands, because yes, that's exactly what he needs right now. _God_.

Derek chuckles, crosses a ray of sunshine slipping around the closed curtains as he pulls the glass out of Stiles' reach. "You need to sit up first. I don't want orange juice on my bed." 

Stiles groans, but does, the orange juice hitting his throat is fucking orgasmic, like, seriously, it's cool, and clear and so, so, so refreshing. "Oh my _god_ ," he moans, maybe a bit too loudly, a bit too dramatically. "That was fucking amazing." 

"If you can face leaving bed, there's more, and some food too." 

Derek's already showered and dressed. How long had he been asleep? 

"It's four p.m.," Derek answers Stiles' unasked question. "You had a pretty long night."

Stiles nods, but fuck that kinda makes his head hurt. He tries to remember, oh shit, right, Jimmy, and, the pill, and then, oh man, that amazing girl, that he was totally going to bang except--"Cora?" 

"Yeah, Cora. She says she found you off your face in a club." 

There's no judgment in Derek's tone, not really, but maybe it's because Stiles expects it that he hears it. "I can do what I like, Derek. I'm an adult." 

Derek's voice stays calm and level, it's fucking infuriating because of reasons. "I didn't say you couldn't." 

Urgh, this morning had been going so well. Just because Derek's older, and a guy, and maybe spends a lot of time with him, it's not like Stiles looks up to him for anything. They're not boyfriends, they're barely even friends, he guesses, maybe, what the fuck, who is he kidding? "You're not my dad, I know how to take care of myself." 

Derek snorts. "Obviously you do, I'm sure you would have been fine if Cora hadn't found you." There's a pointed look and Stiles frowns. 

Is this...how much did Cora say? Does Derek know how close he was to fucking her in a dirty bathroom stall? Does Derek know how much he wants her? Fuck, fuck, he needs to get out of here, because he feels like he's going to do something stupid. Really stupid. 

Stiles flops a little getting out of bed, but Derek steadies him with a ridiculously large and comforting hand on his arm. "Careful."

"I should go, work, and you obviously have better things to do than babysit me." He tries not to sound childish but knows he fails. He doesn't need another person judging him for his life choices, because, fuck, fuck Derek and fuck Cora and fuck everyone and their stupid faces. He tries to snatch his arm away, but Derek doesn't let go. 

"Hey, hey Stiles, I don't...don't go. I made breakfast, and it's a long way back to yours on an empty stomach." Derek's hand gets go of his arm and he steps back. 

Stiles runs a hand over his face, fuck, how did a good morning turn to this? Fucking come down.

"Yeah," Stiles finds himself saying, through the hand still over his face. "I'll stay." 

It finally sinks in that he's naked, standing there in front of a fully clothed Derek and it doesn't actually bother him. Outside this room, though, there might be Cora, and he's not at all ready for that. "Got any clothes?" 

*

Stiles has worn these so many times he almost feels like they're his, except that he still has to roll them at the waist, because Derek. 

"I made bacon," Derek says, opening the oven and pulling out a plate of bacon that's been keeping warm. If they ever stayed together, bacon would be their food, their 'I love you' food. The one that you wake each up with on your anniversary. _Bacon_. 

He slides onto a stool and sees the BBQ sauce and another glass of orange juice already set up. When did Derek get to know him so well? They haven't been doing this long, only...fuck, only four months. When did that happen? 

The bacon sandwich comes over to him, and they sit in silence for a few minutes, wolfing down their sandwiches. Stiles knows once this is done there'll be another one, because Derek's awesome like that. 

"So, Cora?" Derek asks, as he's putting together his second sandwich. 

Stiles frowns, he thought they were over this. 

"No, not like--" Derek sighs. "I just wanted to know if you had fun out with her. She was, she said it was fun, Cora's not really--she hasn't made too many friends since we've been in New York." 

They never talk about where Derek and Cora were before they came to New York. Stiles knows California, but that is, they've not really spoke about it at length, he gets the feeling they don't want to. Maybe it's part of why spending time with them feels so much like home. He doesn't know how long they've been here, or where the hell Laura is (away on business, is all they'll ever say), but he thinks maybe Derek has been here longer than Cora. 

He'd never thought of Cora and Derek as lonely. They've got each other, which is a whole lot more than he has, and Cora's always heading out to meet someone, and Derek's always...well, Derek's normally at the gym, which, Stiles had kinda thought meant he was out fucking around, but, yeah. Whatever. 

Derek's watching him, waiting for an answer and Stiles doesn't know what to say. It was fucking fantastic. He'd danced and danced and danced, and tried not to do anything that would let Cora know how much he wanted her, but, he hadn't been clubbing with a friend in so long. He'd not had that moment where you know at the end of the night you won't be heading home alone. That they'll be someone waiting for you in the club. "It was, it was nice."

Derek smiles and passes him another sandwich. "Good, I'm glad."

They eat in silence for a few more minutes, Stiles turning over the conversation in his head. Something feels wrong, something feels off. 

"Cora's pretty cool, isn't she?" Derek tops up Stiles' orange juice. 

Stiles is mid-chew but he answers anyway, mouth full of food. "Uh, yeah?" _What's Derek doing?_

Derek licks his lips, almost nervously, and now Stiles is worried. "You had a good time last night?" 

"Uh, yeah? We already went over this, Derek. Cora is my bro." 

Derek doesn't nod, doesn't smile. Fuck. This feels like-- 

"You and Cora would make a good couple." 

Fuck fuck fuck, Derek _knows_ , he knows how Stiles feels about Cora, but, did he really have to bring it up like this? What the fuck is he playing at? "What the fuck, Derek?!" Stiles stands up, knocking the stool out of the way. 

"Stiles! Just...you and Cora, you'd be good for each other, and, I think she likes you too, so maybe..." 

"Are you trying to pimp me out to your sister? No, wait, are you trying to pimp your sister out to me? You know there are easier ways to break up with someone." It's fucking low that Derek would use this to get rid of Stiles. fuck. He thought Derek was better than this. 

"We were never going out, Stiles, this wasn't--" 

"Bullshit, look at last night, look at this morning. It's been _four months_ , Derek, I spend more time here than I do at my own apartment."

"And you spend at least half of it with Cora!" Derek argues.

"Because she's my only fucking friend in this city, Christ!" 

Stiles is panting hard now, because what the fuck no, no, no, no, he'd been so careful, so fucking careful. Things were _fine_ , he didn't need them to change, so why the hell was Derek doing this? 

Stiles sighs. "I thought we...I thought we had something, don't tell me you didn't feel it, too." 

Derek's shoulders are hunched in on himself, like he's already given up, given Stiles up. "I'm...I'm really not worth it Stiles. I can't do relationships, and you deserve someone who can. Someone like Cora." 

That's...stupid. So stupid. "Derek I can't... I can't just switch between you and Cora, you're not interchangeable."

"I know, Cora's better than me, she'll be better for you. She's a better version of me, she's not as...broken, you could--"

"Derek! You absolute idiot! I can't do that! Cora's my friend, and you're...something more."

"I've seen the way you look at her, Stiles. I smelled you last night, when you got in. You want her, if I wasn't here you'd probably already be together."

Shit, shit, what the hell is Derek even on about? That's not--"Derek, no! I'm not just going to drop you and start hitting on Cora, that's not--" He really can't get his head around how Derek even thought this was a good idea, or what the hell Derek's damage is that he doesn't think he can do a relationship. For all intents and purpose they've been _in_ a relationship for the last four months. 

"Stiles," Derek says, and Stiles can't look away. Their gazes are locked. "I can't do this with you any more, you deserve better, you deserve Cora. So this? Us? It's over. But, you're always welcome in the apartment, and I could--I could clear out for a bit if it would make things easier."

His vision is a bit blurry, but it's with anger, he tells himself, nothing else. Angry tears. "Derek, I don't want this to end..." 

The thing is, Derek looks just as broken up over this. "Stiles, it's for the best." 

And that's stupid, this is all stupid. Derek is hurting them just because he's too fucking dense to see how wrong this is. "Fuck you! I would have fought for us, Derek. And you're just going to throw it away because you think you don't deserve, what? To be happy? To be loved? Well fuck you!" 

He spots his shoes by the door, and he hadn't had a coat to begin with so fuck it, fuck it, fuck it, fuck it. He grabs the shoes and one of his hoodies that he's left here, because fuck this. 

"Fuck you, Derek!" Stiles pulls the hoodie on, and slips his bare feet into his still-wet trainers. "Just, fuck you." 

Derek doesn't say anything, just watches, eerily silent, as Stiles stomps and slams and leaves. 

Stiles gets home to his cold, empty dorm room, and fuck, he hates it, he fucking hates Derek and his stupid face. He throws off Derek's clothes and pulls some old, musty ones off of the floor. How long has it been since he last did laundry? Fuck, half his clothes are probably over at Derek's. His bed's empty and cold, and smells stale and unwelcoming. He doesn't curl up and cry, he doesn't. 

He misses his evening shift at the store.


	2. Chapter 2

February's not the coldest month of the year, but it always seemed to feel it even more. Winter has dragged on, and it's the last real month of it. March might be cold, but spring is in sight, but February, man, February's another horrible month of winter to suffer through. This February feels like the hardest one Stiles has ever weathered, even harder than his first in New York, and it's not just because he doesn't have Derek in his life any more. 

Work sucks, Chuck sucks (well, Carol sucks and that's half the problem), winter sucks, school sucks, everything sucks. 

He doesn't hear from Cora until a week after the fucked up afternoon with Derek. 

He's in Early Twentieth Century Lit when he sees Cora's name pop up on his phone. He debates not reading it for 0.0001 seconds flat. _You haven't been around in a while, what's up?_

Cora has to know, she must know. If not, he just looks like douchiest friend in the history of friends. Or, he guesses they're not friends any more, if they even were. 

It might be petty, but he wants her to know it's not his fucking choice, Derek did this, Derek split them all up. _You should ask derek_

He sits through the rest of the lecture, and half his shift at the bookstore until her name flashes up again. _I miss you. Can't we still be friends?_

And Stiles doesn't know what to say because, fuck, he misses her too. He misses hanging out on the sofa, getting his ass beat at Call of Duty, bickering over pizza toppings. He missing them both. He misses the sense of family he'd had when it had just been the three of them in the apartment, and fuck, it's not like he knows anyone else really. But he doesn't reply.

Because replying would be too hard, because looking at Cora and not knowing what Derek might have said to her would be too much. He thinks about being back in their apartment, and he doesn't want to, everything's just too raw. 

So no, he doesn't reply, and she doesn't text again. 

*

He'd love to say he's learned his lesson about kissing Jimmy or taking shit from him, but, when Chuck says, "Hey man, you want to come out with us? Jimmy's going to be there. I think he's kinda into you." Stiles can't think of one fucking reason not to go. 

Carol doesn't like guys hitting on her in straight clubs, so they go to Jimmy's favorite, the place they'd ended up that night, before he fucked everything up with Cora and Derek. 

The only thing is Jimmy's favorite club has memories of his time with Cora in every corner. It's straight to the bar when they get in, and all he can think is, 'Cora made me drink soda-gun water here so I didn't dehydrate'. Fuck, it's depressing. 

So, maybe when he's dancing with Jimmy and one sweaty hand reaches over to grab his face, pull him close, and Stiles thinks, not again, I should've learned my lesson last time, but he doesn't. Because fuck, there's nothing left to fuck up now, is there? 

It doesn't matter that he felt like shit for days after. That was probably just _Derek_. So, whatever, he kisses Jimmy and swallows the pill he pushes into his mouth with his tongue. Then he stays kissing Jimmy, and dancing, dancing, dancing. Because nothing's going to get better, he's not going to move on, unless he does something about it. 

*

He has a weekly call with his dad on Skype, misses it once, twice, three times, because he's passed out in someone's living room, someone's bed, or puking in his own toilet. His dad calls Scott, Scott calls him. It's all very dramatic, but he's fine. He's fine. 

He tells Scott that, but Scott just says, "Whatever it is, I'm there for you man. You get that right? That's what being a friend is."

And it makes him want to cry, because Cora was his friend, Derek was his fucking friend, until he fucked it all up by falling in love with both of them. 

*

He's sexiled again, and now he's running pretty low on places to go. He can't go back to the gym, the library's kicked him out because he'd maybe been a bit short with a librarian, and he's in no state or mood to go clubbing, so the twenty four hour diner just off of campus will have to do. 

If he'd seen her before he ordered or sat down, he would have left and found somewhere else, but once he's seated and ordered, he really can't afford to piss of the staff, or get a meal somewhere else. 

She's bent down over her laptop, brown hair messily piled up in a bun, and she looks good, fuck, Cora always looks good. Maybe if he just keeps his head down and gets on with his essay she won't notice him. 

They call out his order by name, fucking Starbucks-customer service infecting everyone, and her head shoots up, swinging around trying to find him.

She meets his gaze and he can't look away. He wants to run, he wants not to have this conversation, he wants to go over and hug his friend hello. 

Instead he slips back into his booth and isn't surprised when she gathers up her things and joins him. 

"Hey Cora," he says, fiddling with his grilled cheese sandwich. It's too hot to eat. 

She stares at him for a moment, the glare on her face bringing back Derek--it's such a Hale-family glare, and he misses it. Her expression softens and she leans over the table. "I don't... I know you and Derek aren't--whatever, but he misses you. I miss you. I don't get why you can't still hang around."

Stiles sighs. This is the conversation he didn't want to have. "It doesn't work like that, Cora." The shape of her name tastes foreign in his mouth, has it been so long?

"It's not like you and Derek were ever _together_." 

He wonders if she's trying to fool herself as well as him. 

"Can we just go back to how it was, but you just don't fuck him anymore?" 

Stiles thinks back to lounging in bed with Derek, that time they tried to make fajitas and ended up with a plate full of burnt peppers and undercooked chicken, and even if they hadn't said it, they could have been. They were. They were in a relationship. "I can't--" he hates the way that his voice breaks. "I can't be back there, Cora. I can't be around him knowing that he's just using me to hurt himself."

"He didn't--" Cora starts, almost pleading, except Cora doesn't plead, but if she did, this is what it would sound like. 

"He said it." Stiles can hear the sadness in his voice. "He said he didn't deserve me. He said I should--" He stops, he can't tell Cora that, not if she doesn't already know. "I can't be in the apartment, Cora." 

"Well how about something not in the house then? Why don't we go out and grab pizza?" She's dropped it now, and the logic voice is out, the one that got him to stay up all night marathoning Battlestar Galatica, the one that got him to finish is required reading.

He hesitates. "It sounds a lot like a date..." Cora knows about Marcus, she knows he doesn't want to... 

"It's not. It's just pizza." She insists, grinning at him, because she knows him and she knows she's won. 

"I suck at dates," he tells her. "I can do hook-ups and epic friendships, but obviously not relationships." 

Cora hesitates and he dares her to say dating can just be epic friendships with hookups and a dash of commitment, but she won't. He knows she won't. (He kinda wishes she would.)

So they agree to meet on Friday at Stiles' favorite pizza place. Cora has to run, but, it's good, it's fine, he hugs her goodbye as she leaves, and it's the first comforting touch he's had in a month. 

*

Friday comes quick enough, and he's nervous but he literally has no one to tell about it. He shouldn't be nervous, because it's not a date, it's a friend-date, it's hanging out, it's _pizza_. 

More importantly, it's _fun_. Over the last few weeks he hasn't really had anyone to talk to and it's nice--it's easy being with Cora. She tells him what she's been up to, and even if he can spot the empty spots where Derek fits in, it's okay, they skip over them. They don't talk about him, and by the end of the evening it's nowhere near as awkward.

So they do it again. And again. They go bowling, hit up an architecture exhibition at the museum, play pool, sit through Chuck's shitty drama club thing. They go to the movies to see Pacific Rim and they both fall in love with Mako and Raleigh. 

"See? Sometimes you can just be really close friends," Cora says, with a nudge. And yeah, she's right, of course she's right, why did he ever think it had to be more? They don't need sex to add onto of this; they can just be bros. 

They sit in a bar (thank you fake IDs), until it closes, gushing at each other about the film. Herc and Chuck make Cora tear up a little, and Stiles laughs so she punches him in the arm, which hurts, Cora's got a hell of a right hook on her, he didn't know she worked out that much, her arms are still really slender, which, huh. 

And Stiles is totally stuck on Mako and Raleigh, on the way they're undefined, they're friends, and there's trust, but there's no hint of anything sexual. But that's it, they're there for each other. It's the most epic friendship he's ever seen and something a little bit more. It's what he wants with Cora, not because he doesn't want to sleep with her, because hell yes, but because sex messes things up. 

Look at Derek, they could have been amazing together, but their relationship started with sex and look how fucked it got. Derek's funny and careful, and, whatever, whatever Derek's damage was, Stiles _knew_ it was an ex, and fuck that. Fuck sex with people you like. 

Mako and Raleigh said fuck you to definitions and yeah, he wants that. 

They're closer to Cora's than his when the bar kicks out, so he walks her home. They're not finished talking about the film, and it's a nice early April night. 

Outside the entrance they pause, looking up it's too far up to be able to identify their window. "I guess you don't want to come up?" Cora asks. 

She doesn't say Derek's name, but they never do, it's one of their unspoken rules. "How is he?" Because he needs to know, he does. 

Cora hesitates. "He's...he's Derek, he's quiet, and sullen. I think Laura might be home soon. That'll cheer him up. He loves Laura." 

Stiles hadn't really seen it before, but now he can. "You know he loves you, right?" 

Her frown tells him she disagrees. 

"No, really, Derek literally cares about you so much that he--" He stops, he can't let her know just how much Derek cares about her. What he'd do for his love of Cora. That he loves her more than Stiles, and Stiles can't even blame him. He can blame him for thinking there was a choice. He thinks about Scott, in Beacon Hills, thousands of miles away. "He really cares about you," Stiles finishes lamely. 

Cora doesn't look convinced, "I guess." 

He reaches out and draws her into a hug. He feels her rise up onto her toes and then hook her chin over his shoulder, bringing them closer. "Love you, Cora," he murmurs into your hair. 

"Love you, too," she replies, breath tickling his neck. 

They hug for longer than maybe they should, before he breaks it, and pulls away. 

"Have a good night, Stiles."

Hands in his pockets he nods at her. "You too, Cora." 

It's a long trip home, and he spends it trying not to think about what could be between them.

*

Stiles draws the body next to him tight, fuck, he's missed having someone in his bed, someone he can hold. The person in his arms lets out a small sleepy noise and pushes back against him. He groans, because fuck that feels good, better than good, the pressure against his dick is, hmm, more. 

"Stiles!" 

The shout makes him jump up, almost knocking a mostly-asleep Cora off of the bed. He squints up, trying to find the source of the noise. "Whu?" 

Chuck is standing there looking really fucking annoyed. "Jesus man, can you please not do that shit when I'm in the room. You said Cora was a friend when you asked if it was cool if she stayed over after you watched 'some movies'. She's clearly more than that." 

Cora's sitting up now, too. His single, crappy dorm bed bringing them close together. He hopes she doesn't notice how hard he is. "No, this is just Cora, my friend," Stiles explains slowly, like Chuck's a child. 

"Stiles, I have friends and I don't sleep in the same bed with them, hold them like that, or make the noises you two were making." Stiles flushes. Fuck Chuck. 

"Whatever man, even if she was my girlfriend, that's nowhere near as bad as what you do with Carol." 

"That's different!" Chuck argues.

Stiles really isn't in the mood for this. He was having a good sleep and now, awkwardness and whatever. "Yeah? What the hell is different? What about that time she fucking blew you while I was studying for my midterms."

Chuck splutters. "She didn't--"

"Shit!" Cora jumps out of bed. "Fuck, I'm late for my 10 o'clock." She starts stripping off the tee of Stiles' she'd been wearing, and both he and Chuck look away. 

Chuck grabs his bag and heads toward the door. "I'm going, Stilinski, but seriously, this is not cool!"

"Whatever, dickbag!" Stiles shouts after him, because seriously--fuck Chuck. 

"Stiles! C'mon, I can't find my sneakers!" Cora's chucking about pillows and dirty clothes. "I swear, you're messier than I am."

Stiles leans over, reaching under the bed and pulls out her sneakers. "Shoes live under the bed," he tells her solemnly. 

She laughs and sits on Chuck's bed to pull them on. "Fuck, okay, we still on for clubbing tonight?" 

He nods, running a hand over the back of his neck: his hair's getting long, he should buzz it. "Yeah, see you at Liquid at eight for pre-drinks?" 

"Sounds good!" Cora jumps up, throws her messenger bag over her shoulders and pats her pockets. "Okay, keys, purse, notes. Think I've got everything." She leans down and plants a quick kiss on his lips, and then freezes. 

"Fuck! Sorry, Stiles!" She holds a hand up to her lips, like she can't believe she just did that. "I wasn't--" Her eyes are darting nervously from Stiles' eyes to his lips. 

Stiles blinks. Blinks again. Did she really just--? "Don't... it's fine, don't worry about it. Accidents happen. Go, you've got 10 minutes to make it to the lecture, you can do it!" 

She grins. "See you later!"

Once she's gone he sits there, kinda riled up; he's still half-hard from whatever dream he was having, or the memory of a soft body pressed against his. It doesn't help that the argument with Chuck has left him agitated, antsy. It's a good day today--no lectures and only an afternoon shift at the bookstore. 

He flops back onto his bed, grunting at the way it makes his boxers drag against his dick. He could...he doesn't get time for a leisurely jerk these days, not anymore, because Chuck is always fucking here.

He rifles through his bedside cabinet and grabs a handful of lube, not that he ever fucking gets to use it these days. He lets it warm for a few moments, and uses his other hand to drag down his boxers until he can kick them off. He feels stupid in just a t-shirt, so he pulls at that until he's got it off too. He probably should have waited to get the lube out. 

The first grab on his dick feels good, like, yeah, he's missed this. He hasn't even jerked off in-- shit, in like a week, what the fuck is wrong with him? He flicks through his mental catalog of shit that gets him off, skipping over Derek still hurts, because nobody had fucked him like Derek had--guy was fucking perfect. 

People he's met in clubs aren't doing it for him. He can't get enough detail from his memory to get him going. He keeps getting stuck on the piss on the floor, or the rough way they grabbed his head. That image becomes Cora, he thinks about sleepy sex with her, or, that time they almost, in the club. 

He can imagine rucking her skirt up, dragging her panties down her thighs, and maybe if he's lucky she'll have a pretty patch of dark hair there. He'd happily fall to his knees for her, lick her open with broad strokes of his tongue until she was crying and trembling, grabbing his hair and begging to come. 

Her boobs are fucking perfect, just bigger than a handful and he'd suck on them, caress them; he wouldn't let up until she could say nothing but his name, until, until--

Stiles grunts as he comes, working his dick through it until he's utterly spent. He lays there panting and trying to forget how he'd thought of Cora, what he'd do to Cora. Fuck, he is fucked. But he won't, he won't sleep with her, because sex ruins good things. He knows this. He does. It just doesn't stop him wanting her. But it's fine, he'll find someone else, fuck it out of his system so him and Cora can be bros. 

He staggers to his feet to try and find where the fuck his come landed, sometimes he wishes he was one of those guys that just dribbled as they came. It'd make life a lot fucking easier. 

*

The line for the club is long, but it gives them time to dig out their fake IDs and cover. They're surrounded by people frantically trying to finish their cigarettes before they get inside. Stiles checks out a couple of people. He's got to get laid, get everything out of his system and then everything will be cool with Cora. No probs. 

Stiles gets free entry and he isn't going to argue it. "Those lips? You can come right on in." 

The club's loud but still relatively empty, it's early yet. Cora's the most coordinated drunk he knows. He'll be knocking things over, left right and center, and she'll be dancing like she was born to do it. He'll have passed out on top of Cora and she won't even have flushed cheeks. 

They dance on the half-empty floor, because Stiles is a little buzzed and Cora loves dancing. It only takes a couple of songs for a few people to crowd around them. It's a gay club, so people assume Cora isn't his girlfriend--which she's not. She's not. 

The thing about there being just the two of them is that he can't just wander off and fuck the first cute guy he sees, because he doesn't want to just abandon Cora in the club. They came here together and they'll leave together. But, the other good thing about clubs is club-friends, those people you meet, and start dancing and drinking with. The clubs too loud for words, maybe a 'hello' and a name gets across but that's it. 

If you want to hang around and drink you'll find people for it; if you want to stay and dance you'll find people. 

There's a pretty blond in a shirt that's started grinding up behind him, already hard and yeah, Stiles can go for that. He looks up at Cora and she's dancing with his friend, he thinks, yeah, they came over as a pair, they're probably together. 

He leans in, close to her ear, jostling her drink a little, but who the fuck expects him to have coordination? "I'm going to the bathroom," he shouts. "Be back in--" He tries to get a better look at blond and up for it. "Twenty minutes." 

Cora shoots a look over Stiles' shoulder and glares, but nods her head. He drops a kiss on her cheek, before spinning around and grabbing the guy's hand.

There's a line for the toilet, but that's fine, it's fine, more time for him to make out with--"Stiles!" Stiles says, holding out his hand. The corridor is quieter than the dance floor. 

Tall and blond grins and takes Stiles' hand. "Mike! Nice to meet you." 

The guy's older than Stiles, old enough that Stiles probably shouldn't. Maybe, 28? 29? What's the rule, half their age plus seven, 28...14...21...Stiles was 20, that was close enough. Fuck it. Mike's a little taller than him, and wearing suit pants. Suit pants. Shit, he'd bet anything the guy's got a suit jacket checked in the coat room. 

Stiles laughs as he pulls the guy into the stall, because he feels fucking giddy. Sex sex sex, he is about to get all of the sex. He promised Cora they'd be out in twenty, so he's got fuck all time for foreplay. 

As soon as they're in, he kisses Mike once, hard and turns around, sticking his ass out. "I kinda thought I'd bottom," he tells Mike, over his shoulder, like there's a choice in the matter. Stiles wants to be fucked. He really fucking wants to be fucked. 

It's Mike's turn to laugh, but it's nothing harsh or cruel. "Works for me." 

Stiles unbuckles his belt, pops the fly on his jeans and slides them and his underwear down enough to get his ass and his cock out. It's all he needs for this. It's been a few months since anyone fucked him, but he thought this one through, a little. 

He digs the condom and packet of lube out of his jeans, cranes his head around pushes them over to Mike. "Put it on, so we can get this party started." 

"You're lucky I like bossy," Mike says, suit pants round his ankles, rolling the condom down his dick. 

Stiles digs in his jeans again and pulls out the small plastic bottle. He'd learned what to do with these before he'd even left Beacon Hills. He passes the bottle to Mike first, his parents taught him manners at the very least. 

Mike chuckles, "You're bringing it all back, kid." Then Stiles hears the tell-tale sniff before the bottle's passed back to him. 

At the first touch of a lubed finger against his hole Stiles breaths in deep. The rush is instant and he loves it. He can feel his limbs loosen and rests his head against his braced arms. 

Mike's just the right amount of rough when he fucks him, and Stiles gives as good as he gets. When they're done Mike rests his weight against Stiles, with harsh breaths on the back of his neck. 

Stiles wishes he could stop comparing him to Derek. 

Cora's stills dancing with the other guy in the suit. (How had he not noticed that? They'd definitely come together.) She jumps up onto Stiles when he reappears, letting him hold her weight. 

Her arms come around his neck, rubbing against it, lingering over every place Mike had, like she knew. It's pretty weird behaviour, but he just files it away with all the other odd shit Cora does, like her good sense of hearing, and her strength. 

"I'm glad you're back!" she shouts, and even though she's light, Stiles finds her difficult to hold. He's kinda fucked out. 

"Wanna sit for a minute?" Stiles asks and she nods. He waves at the two guys and gets a nod and a smile in return. 

They grab a couple of drinks and settle in one of the booths that line the walls, the music's a little quieter here, but not much. Cora sits with her legs thrown over his lap, pointed heels scraping against the cheap leather of the seats. 

The dance floor's heaving now, a press of bodies that's hard to navigate, and they watch for a little bit. It's only a Tuesday so there aren't any lasers. That kind of bums Stiles out a bit. He thinks about getting up and dancing, but he can't be bothered. He'd felt amazing after Mike, but now he just feels a little...raw, a little open. He wants to talk, wants to go somewhere he can hear Cora, and speak to her. He wants to go somewhere that's not quite as an assault on the senses. 

He turns to Cora, only to find her glaring at a guy about to sit next to him. When she catches Stiles' eye, she smiles. "Want to dance?" he asks her, because even though he wants to go, they haven't been here long. 

She says no with a lift of her shoulders. "Another drink? Some air?" he offers them all, just in case. She declines. "Want to get out of here?" 

"We can stay, if you want." 

He shakes his head. "I'm done, let's go." 

They hit up their favorite late night diner in this part of town, and even though the diner lights are way too bright, it's better here, calmer. 

"One strawberry milkshake, extra thick, and one chocolate with whipped cream on top," Cora orders for him without evening asking. She's right though, that's exactly what he wants. 

They pull up a pair of chairs and wait for their shakes. 

"You're quiet," Cora observes, after a few minutes. 

"Just a little tired," he replies, because, what he really wants right now is to hug Cora, to bury himself in her arms and just...it's never been like this before. Before Derek he'd just fucked and been fucked, and that was great, no problem. But now he knew what it could be like afterward, those quiet moments, the shared humor. Instead, it was just a bit empty. 

Their shakes arrive and they demolish them in no time. Instead of splitting, Stiles asks Cora back to his place. "I'm not ready for bed yet, a stream of Pacific Rim went up last night, want to come rewatch it?" 

Cora loved it almost as much as he did, so of course she says yes. 

The fall asleep curled on his bed, and finally, finally he feels a little better.

*

Stiles rolls over and groans. There's a fucking beeping noise and it will not fucking stop. 

"Chuck!" He shout-groans. "Answer your fucking phone."

"It's not mine!" Chuck shouts back. "It's your fucking girlfriend's!"

"She's not my fucking girlfriend!" He might not be on the best terms with Chuck right now. 

His head fucking pounds, but he reaches out to grab Cora's phone. He swipes to answer without looking. "Hello?" He needs some Tylenol right the fuck now, fucking alcohol, oh god, and the poppers. 

"Stiles?" Derek's voice is muffled, but he'd recognize it anywhere. "What're you doing with Cora's phone?"

Before Stiles can answer Derek starts speaking again. 

"Oh, that'd be what you're doing with Cora's phone, are things...going well?" Derek's voice sounds like he's got a blocked up nose, or--something. It's too nasally. 

"Derek, are you okay? What's wrong with your voice?" Stiles reaches for his bedside table and finds that Cora's left him a glass of water. Best. 

"I don't--it's nothing, is Cora around?" It's weird talking to Derek after all this time; he used to know Derek's schedule, what he'd be doing, now he's got no idea. 

"No, she must have gone to lectures and forgot her phone." Derek growls, or...fuck it, no, Derek growls. "What's up, man? Can I help?" Because if Derek needs help, Stiles knows he has no one else but Cora to ask. 

"It's fine, Stiles, I just wanted a ride, is all. I can walk, it shouldn't be--"

"Don't be such an idiot." It's surprising how easily he falls back into this. "I'll come pick you up, you're not at home, right? Give me the address." He's pretty thankful Cora left her car here last night.

"Stiles, you don't have to--"

"Derek, even if there wasn't anything between us, I'd do this for your as my friend's brother. So shut the hell up and give me the address." 

It's a fair distance, so he tells Derek he'll be about half hour and pulls on some clothes. The ride over Stiles tries not to be nervous, he hasn't seen Derek in--shit, in four months now, as long as he...dated Derek, almost. 

When he gets to the address he can't see Derek there, that's so fucking typical, Derek's decided to walk and not tell him. Then Derek just fucking melts out of the shadows, and he's really, really not looking good. There's dried blood down his face and what looks like a particularly vicious shiner. As he moves toward the car he's holding onto his ribs and walking with a bit of a limp. 

Pulling himself up into the car, he lets out a pained grunt. 

"Derek!" Stiles wants to touch, wants to check for worse injuries, but he wouldn't know what he's doing.

"Hey." 

"What the hell happened?! We need to get you to an ER, like, dude your face is messed up." Stiles reaches out to touch, but Derek grabs his hand, freaky quick. 

"No, no ER, I'm fine." Derek coughs and Stiles is sure he sees blood. 

"Dude, you are _not_ fine, you're very much un-fine." He catches a rip in Derek's shirt that looks very, very much like Carol's friend had when he'd been stabbed. 

Stiles is quicker than Derek this time, and pulls his shirt up, expecting to see Derek bleeding all over his car. The dark wool of his sweater is definitely soaked in blood, but the skin underneath just has a pink line, like it's an old wound. 

"Stiles!" Derek yanks his jumper back down. "Leave it alone. I'll be fine, I just need some time to sleep it off."

There should have been a cut. There should've. "Derek people don't heal from stab wounds--" 

Derek grabs for the door of Cora's Chevy and Stiles stops him with a hand on his arm. Derek glares at the hand, so Stiles lets go. 

"Sorry! Sorry! Letting go! It's just--stay. I won't ask you any questions about your injuries." Stiles' brain is running a million miles a minute. He needs to get Derek somewhere safe, but if Derek is actually healing then the ER probably isn't somewhere safe and--

Derek nods and relaxes into the seat. 

"Back to your house?" Stiles asks, putting the Chevy into gear. If he loiters much longer someone's probably going to try and give him a ticket. 

They drive in silence, driving in New York is a fucking nuisance and he mostly never wants to do it, doesn't in fact, he's glad he left his Jeep back home. This is one of the times Stiles seriously wishes Cora's car had a working radio. 

"It's...it's a Hale family trait, we heal quickly." Derek just sounds tired, worn out, and beaten down, and Stiles really worries about him. 

Stiles nods because what can he say? If your family can do that they're fucking magical creatures? Like, what even? He's not ready for the conversation where he has to call Derek on his bullshit, because that's bullshit, but Derek _is_ healing, so fuck knows. 

Derek looks tired, even with the blood washed off and the lack of shiners, he looks worn out. If Cora's spending all this time with him, then, who's Derek hanging out with? That much time alone and brooding can't be good for him. Eventually Stiles blurts out, "Are you happy?" 

Derek looks up sharply, "...what?" 

He could say 'nothing, ignore me', but it's Derek, and there's totally a Derek-shaped space in his heart, and even if Derek was a stupid dick about it, he still cares about him. "I don't--I still--I miss you, man. And I don't just miss the sex, I miss hanging out, I miss all the other stuff, and you don't--" Stiles breathes. Being around Derek is making everything he hasn't said bubble to the surface. 

Derek is quiet, and if he wasn't hurt Stiles would totally have thrown him out of the car, because what a dick move. "I miss you, too," Derek says, picking at a dried blood stain on his jeans. "I never wanted you _gone_ when I stopped what was going on between us. I just wanted--I thought you could be happier with Cora, and I knew I'd never be enough for you. You two deserve each other." 

Stiles sighs, he wants to argue, tell Derek that he would have been enough, but then, Cora. He can't have this argument again, he's not going to get angry or hurt, because it doesn't get him anywhere. If Derek doesn't want sex, then he's not going to push, because he's slowly learning one thing: friendship is way more important than sex. If he can have an epic-broship with Cora without sex, why can't he do it with Derek as well? 

"I mean, if it's not too weird for you maybe you could--we could hang out again? Like, maybe you and Cora could spend some nights over, the apartment's really empty without both of you." And there is it, Derek's offering him friendship, the one currency that Stiles understands, that sits above everything but family (except really, friends are family, and that's the only way he knows how to do it). 

"I'd like that," Stiles answers, catching a quick glimpse of a smile from Derek. 

It's a few moments before either of them speak. "How are things going between you and Cora?" Derek has no right to sound so hopeful. 

"I told you, we're friends. Just like we were when you and me were still boning."

"Oh." Derek doesn't even try not to let the disappointment show. "Do you really not--what's wrong with Cora? I thought the two of you would be perfect together."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "We are perfect together. We're best buds. We don't need sex to fuck that up." 

"Why would sex fuck it up?" Confusion colors Derek's voice.

"Because that's what sex does, it takes awesome relationships and makes them weird and wrong and puts a sell-by date on them." He thinks of Marcus, he thinks of Derek. 

"That's bullshit." Derek doesn't sugarcoat things. "My parents loved each other, they had me and my sisters because of that love. I know your dad loved your mom, and look at all the people in the world that have sex and love each other without messing things up."

It's nothing Stiles hasn't thought about before. "What if they're all lying? What if they're all miserable and unhappy but just too stubborn to do anything about it? The divorce rate is fifty percent, what does that say?"

"You're too young to be this jaded," Derek says, a little sadly. 

Stiles shrugs and passes a taxi. "I'm old enough, and it's okay. I like having friends, friends are the shit, friends and random hookups are the way forward." 

There's a warm hand on his shoulder. He's missed Derek's touch. "I did this to you, didn't I?" 

"Don't be stupid, you're not the be all and end all of my sexual experience you know. But tell me you haven't seen it. Look at how you are. Someone's messed you up, and I bet it was someone you loved and had sex with."

Derek doesn't say anything for a really long time and Stiles thinks maybe he hit on a really sensitive subject. So he goes to apologize, except that's when Derek starts speaking, "I--the last girlfriend I had burned down our house. Me, Cora and Laura were the only ones to survive."

Stiles nearly hits a cyclist. "Jesus fucking--Derek, that's not--fuck. You shouldn't make shit up to win a conversation."

Derek's silent. One glance at him tells Stiles he wasn't lying. 

"Fuck, I am so sorry, that's...Derek that's not your fault, that's not..." Stiles flounders, _fuck, fuck, what does he say to that? What does he--_ "When my mom died, my dad was too busy working to save anyone else, and so it was just me with her, and I'd been there minutes before anyone else came, just hoping she'd wake back up. She didn't."

Stiles doesn't take his eyes away from the road, but he can hear Derek turn to look at him. "I don't...what's that got to do with relationships?" 

"It doesn't have anything to do, but you shared something painful and secret, so I did too. I don't--no one but my dad and Scott know that, and the nurses on duty. No one I know."

They're almost at Derek and Cora's place now. "Thank you," Derek says, so quiet that Stiles struggles to hear it over the sound of his engine. "For sharing, and--I've never tried telling anyone that's not family about Kate before." Stiles doesn't have to be psychic to know the ex-girlfriend is Kate. 

He pulls up in front of their block. "Me and Cora have a Marvel marathon scheduled for tomorrow night, if you're okay we can move it to yours, and...you're welcome to join in?"

"That's...yeah, that'd be great." When Dereks gets out the car, he doesn't grunt, or wince, or limp. He's not holding his ribs and Stiles...files it away as something to think about another day. Because fuck you all, he just got Derek back in his life. 

*

Things are good. Things are better than good. He has Cora, he has Derek, he's not failing any classes, and...yeah, it's fucking awesome. Except the bit where he's perpetually fucking horny, and sometimes (every time) he has to look away when they bend over. But it's fine, it's just a stupid biological urge. He can ignore it. If he can't, he'll go out and find some randomer to fuck, and if they're not as satisfying as they used to be, well, he lived for eighteen years with just his hand--he'll cope. 

So maybe sometimes they'll all three fall asleep in a pile on the sofa, so what? That's fine. And if he wakes up and finds himself hard, it's not a problem--they have a very sound-proof bathroom.

Tonight is Cheap Tuesdays at Liquid, so Stiles heads over to Derek and Cora's after school. Cora's still in lectures, but Derek should be home. He buzzes up, but there's no answer, so he uses his key to let himself in. 

The shower's running when he gets into the apartment, so he kicks off his shoes and opens the fridge. There's got to be something worth eating in here, especially if Derek's home. 

He lucks out and finds a bowl of some sort of pasta; it looks oddly expensive, but hey, he's only going to have half. Derek won't mind. He's just about to shove a cold forkful into his mouth when Derek emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of steam. 

Fuck. Don't look. No. Look. You're allowed to look, or are you? Do friends perve on each other? Fuck. Stiles looks, can't help it really, because Derek's got a small, white towel slung low on his hips. His hair's sticking up in every direction, and there's a little bit of a flush to his skin. 

"Dude, you have got to stop showering so hot, it's not good for you. Do you know what consistent expose to water that hot does to your sperm?" _Way to go Stiles, go straight for the balls. What the hell, brain?_

Derek snorts and starts rubbing a towel through his hair. "I think I'll cope without children."

"Whatever man, one day. You'd make an adorable daddy Derek." Don't think about it, don't think about. 

"I think I'd rather just be _uncle_ Derek," he says, pointedly. 

"Oh, has Laura met someone nice?" Stiles feigns ignorance; two can play at this game. Derek's been like this since they've been back in each other's lives, not-so-subtle hints that Stiles should get together with Cora. He lifts the fork to his mouth. 

"Stiles! That pasta needs boiling. And sauce. And preferably a nice garlic bread on the side, maybe a glass of red wine." Derek walks over and grabs the fork and bowl out of his hands. "You didn't even try to heat this!"

Stiles shrugs helplessly. "It looked fine, and it's way nicer than anything in my fridge, so I figured..." 

"Put a pan of water on to boil, then go and sit down. Let me put some clothes on, and I'll show you how it should be cooked. You can't just eat like a college student forever, you know." 

He digs around in drawers looking for a pan. "I don't know, I'm doing pretty well with it. Besides, I can steam a mean set of vegetables."

"Microwaving isn't steaming."

"Yeah? You tell that to my dad." 

Derek finishes toweling off his hair. "Just, go sit down, and try not to eat anything before I get back out."

*

Cora gets home exactly as Derek's dishing up the pasta, which, holy shit, it looks good. Stiles wants it in his belly, like, yesterday. 

"Oh, what's this?" She drops her bag on the sideboard and walks toward the table. 

"Derek made us dinner," Stiles sing-songs. "But he won't let me have any wine."

"You're not old enough," Derek retorts, placing the three bowls on the table. 

"You're letting Cora drink wine, and she's the same age as me." 

"Cora's got a good alcohol tolerance. You don't." 

Stiles turns to Cora. "See, this is why Derek can't come clubbing with us."

"Uh, no. Derek doesn't come clubbing with us because he doesn't like clubbing." Cora settles into the seat next to Stiles, and reaches for her wine. 

Pouting, he shoves an overloaded forkful of pasta into his mouth. "Oh my _god_ ," he moans through the mouthful. "This is amazing." It is, he forgot Derek could _cook_ , holy hell.

"And that's why you can't take Stiles out to dinner," Derek tells Cora. Stiles flips him off. 

"Why don't you like clubbing?" 

"It's too loud, too busy, people are grabby dicks. The usual." 

"Hmm. I guess? That's clubbing though. It's fun, and there are new people, and music, and drinks. You can let loose and just...go missing in a sea of people. It's fun," Stiles insists. 

"People can like different things, y'know," Cora reminds him, taking a sip of her wine. 

Stiles drops the subject, and snags a slice of garlic bread. At the first bite, he lets out a groan of delight, eyes fluttering closed. "Holy shit, Derek, Derek, why did you never make this for me before?" 

Derek ignores him, but he shoves the plate of garlic bread toward Cora. 

"Try it, it'll change your world!" Stiles urges. 

A smile tugs at the corner of Cora's lips. "No thanks, I've got plans tonight that require me to have non-garlicky breath."

"Yeah? And what plans are those?"

"Plans to get _laid_." Cora grins at him and takes a bite of pasta, a very large, very smug bite. "Which is where Derek comes in." She turns to her brother. "You're coming clubbing with us."

Derek grimaces. "I am not your pimp."

Stiles has to bite his tongue to stop him saying something, especially when Derek catches sight of his expression and glares at him. Derek is a fucking Cora/Stiles shipper, is what he is. Derek probably sits up all night writing fanfiction about them. Fucking Derek. 

"I'm not! You've got Stiles. I'm sure he can help you find a nice boy." 

"I don't want a 'nice boy'. I want a filthy boy, someone to scratch this itch, and Stiles is part of the problem." 

"Hey! Since when am I a problem?"

"Since people think you're my boyfriend."

"It doesn't put guys in clubs off of me when I'm with you," Stiles argues, a little petulantly. Because he doesn't like the idea of another guy with Cora, someone else close to her, someone else touching her. 

"Yeah, but when was the last time you fucked a girl?"

Stiles doesn't say that he won't even look at girls when Cora's around, for fear she'll notice him picking a string of people that look just like her. "Point taken."

"Thank you. So, either you camp it up and do your part to look like my gay best friend, or Derek comes along so I can make it clear that neither of you are with me." 

Derek won't come, so Stiles ends up letting Cora put eyeliner on him, and a shirt that's way too tight, and way too unbuttoned. It's stereotypical, but he thinks that's what Cora's going for--a giant sign that says, 'not my boyfriend'. It kinda hurts, even if it is what he wants. 

They get there a little late, because Stiles is too full of pasta to walk with any speed, or drink anything. It's almost like Derek planned it. 

With their drinks, that Stiles can't bring himself to drink yet, they prop up the bar and take some time surveying the crowd. 

A pointed elbow digs into his side. "What about him?" Cora shouts, gesturing with her drink at a guy in a button down. 

Stiles eyes him up, he's a bit old--there's a hint of gray in his hair, and he has a stocky build that says he could stand to lose a few pounds. "You can do better."

The music's fucking terrible, is this seriously what's in the charts right now? Another nudge. "Him?" Cora points at a scrawny kid. 

Stiles shakes his head. "Looks like he's not even old enough to be in here, and he'll probably come in 0.001 seconds flat."

"Stiles! He's probably the same age as us."

He shrugs. "I just think you can do better." 

"Yeah? Well find someone then!" She slams her empty drink down and turns around to order another. 

What the hell? He hadn't--Cora was being stupid, she could do way better than either of those two, and he was just being a good friend and telling her so. He scanned the room, looking for the hottest person he could find, who looked like they weren't a douche. 

That guy? No, too old. That one? Too short. Him? Oh, maybe....no, probably gay. He searches the crowd but can't find anyone. It's early though, there's time. 

"Well?" Cora hands him his drink. "Found someone?" 

He shakes his head. "Why don't we dance? We'll find someone there." 

Cora looks fucking amazing tonight. A little tartan miniskirt and a black halter, with some fuck me heels that do the job beautifully. The dance floor's already packed, and they slot into a gap and start dancing. 

It's barely a song before people are dancing up around them. Too Old from earlier comes straight up behind Cora, and Stiles glares him away. Then, another guy that looks a little bit too much like Derek tries it. Stiles pulls her in and spins them around so the guy's behind him. Take that. Cora can't fuck someone that looks like her brother, that'd be weird. 

The song changes and then Cora's hand grabs on tight to his hand. "Ow!" 

She's dragging him through the crowd and out into a corridor, where there's people enough, but the noise is muffled. She drops his hand and swings on him as soon as they're out and she looks _pissed_.

"Stiles! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" 

He instinctively steps back, holding his hands up. "Helping you find some guy to bone!" 

She lets out a frustrated noise. "No, no you're not! You're doing the opposite!" 

"What?! No I'm not!" He hadn't. There just hadn't been anyone good enough for her. 

"You're being a complete dick about this, I didn't say anything when you let the too old suit fuck you last month. I didn't say anything about anyone!"

"I'm not, that's not--you deserve better than them!" It doesn't matter when it's him letting someone fuck him, because they're just a dick or a hole to him, nothing more. But Cora, Cora deserves better. 

"Well I clearly can't have what I want because you won't give it to me!" People are watching them now, but he doesn't care. 

"What do you want?! The old guy? The kid? The one that's probably gay?" 

"No you idiot, I want _you_!" 

Stiles freezes. This is the thing that don't talk about, the thing he doesn't let himself want, because it'd fuck up their beautiful broship. So he stands there, and doesn't say anything. He doesn't look away from Cora's eyes, from the unshed tears standing there. Because he did this, he fucked it up again. Fuck. 

And then Cora's turning, she's walking away and no, no, no, he's not fucking this up again. 

"Sex breaks things!" He shouts down the hall, now everyone is watching them, but Cora's stopped walking and that's the important thing. She's turned around and is facing him. "Sex ruins things. It takes perfect friendships and it fucking breaks them." They're face to face again, Stiles having walked up to her. He brings his hand up, cups her face and carefully wipes one of her tears away with his thumb. "I don't want to lose you, Cora. You're too important to me to sleep with."

"Stiles, no, not-having sex is causing problems here. I don't think I can take you sneaking off to the bathroom one more time and coming back miserable. Why won't you just do something about it?! I know you want me, I know you have no problems having sex, but I love you, you idiot, and sex, sex is just an expression of that love. I get if you don't want to have it with me, but you can't stop me having it with other people, either way it won't affect our relationship, but--"

Stiles kisses her, he has to bend to do it, but her lips, warm and soft, make it worth it. He can taste the Jack and Coke she'd been drinking, and the unmistakable taste of her lipstick. Her hands slip around his shoulders, pulling him closer, and he pushes the hand that was cupping her face back, to tangle in her hair.

  
  
Art by [puckboum](http://puckboum.livejournal.com)  


When the kiss ends, he doesn't pull away. They stand there, staring at each other, oblivious to the flow of people around them.

"I don't want to force you. I never wanted to force you," Cora says, running her fingers over the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. 

"Maybe you should have, I just--I want you Cora, so badly. I have wanted you since I met you. I just don't want things to change between us; I don't want them to get weird." 

"They won't, I promise." He must be stupid and in love, because he wants to believe her, so, so badly, badly enough to throw all his reservations out the window. "We should get out of here."

"Yeah," he says, distracted, because this is happening--it's happening. "Yeah," he repeats, firmer, because fuck yeah, this has been almost a year in the coming. 

They need Cora's jacket. "I guess--" she hesitates. "Maybe we shouldn't go to mine."

"What?" There's no line at the coat check, so he has the guy waiting impatiently while he looks for their tickets. "Why can't we--oh, oh, he won't mind at all."

"I'm not sure..." 

The guy hands Stiles the jacket, and he holds it out for her. "Cora, he's been trying to convince me we'd been good together since forever. He thinks we'd make, and I quote, 'the perfect couple'."

"Really?" Cora's nose scrunches in such a Derek manner. It makes him ache a little, because Cora, he loves Cora, and he's excited about what's to come, where they're going next. But, a part of him still cares pretty deeply for Derek. Maybe it'll always ache a little. 

"Really."

*

He can't keep his eyes off Cora. His fingers are intertwined with hers, and he's so fucking happy right now he can't help but swing their linked hands a little. Every now and then he'll just look over at her and fucking grin, because this is actually happening. They're actually going back to have sex, because Cora loves him as much as he loves her. 

Stiles looks over at Cora again, and catches her looking at him, she grins, and then they laugh, absolutely giddy with it. 

The elevator pings. The doors open, and they step out. Cora starts walking toward the apartment, but Stiles tugs on her arm, pulling her back into a kiss. Because he gets to do this now. She tiptoes to reach his lips, her lipstick's a mess, probably as much on his mouth as hers now. Cora's pelvis is rubbing against his crotch and oh, oh yeah. 

He lets his hands trail down. He has stopped himself from touching so long that he can't help it. He takes his time, runs down her shoulders, along the leather of her top, down onto the rough cotton of her skirt. In one swoop he slides his hands under her ass and urges her up. Cora's like Derek--she's fucking athletic and she's right there, legs wrapped around his hips and ass resting against the bulge in his jeans. 

Their lips bump and the kiss breaks as she wraps her arms around his neck. 

"What will the neighbors think?" Cora teases, eyes bright with mischief. 

"Fuck the neighbors." She's perfect, she's more than perfect, she's Cora. 

"I'd rather you fucked me, but if you insist..." She mock-pouts and lets go of him, so she starts to slip. He tightens his hold on her ass, bouncing her up as her laughter echoes down the corridor. 

The keys scatter as they stumble through the door, Cora still clinging on to Stiles. He kicks it shut behind him, nearly tripping on the pile of loose shoes near the door. 

He's so caught up in the way Cora is running her nails through his hair that he barely recognizes the sound of the TV. When it registers, he spins around, carefully lowering Cora. 

"Derek!" Stiles licks his lips nervously. They're already swollen and taste like lipstick, and Coke and _Cora_. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand like this is something to hide. 

Derek's sitting on the sofa, one eyebrow raised and the remote control poised in his hand. 

"Derek..." Cora is putting space between them. She sounds unsure, and Stiles reaches back, grabs her hand in his, gives it a reassuring squeeze. 

"We're just going to..." Go to Cora's room and fuck. He can't say that to Derek, can he? "Just going to..."

Derek switches the TV off and stands up, dusting off some Doritos crumbs. "I'm happy for you," Derek says and smiles a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "But I'm not sticking around. I'll be at the gym, Stiles, Cora, see you in the morning." And he bolts. 

Stiles turns to Cora, quirks an eyebrow. 

"I'm to go...freshen up," Stiles says. Because he hadn't planned on getting laid tonight and...well. There were things, that needed to be done. "I'll see you in your room?"

Cora smiles that little smile that's his now. "Yeah, don't be too long."

The bathroom is bright and oh god, this is actually going to happen, he's actually going to have sex, with Cora. He catches sight of himself in the mirror--his cheeks are red and splotchy, his hair sticking up every which way, and his pupils, man, they're totally blown. 

Fuck. 

Fuck, okay, yes. Stiles totally used his wallet condom last week, shit, fuck, what if Cora doesn't have any? What if--oh shit, right, he's been in this bathroom before sex. He grabs a couple of condoms from Derek's spare stash, he won't mind. Safe sex and all, Derek doesn't want a pregnant sister (probably). 

The lights are turned down in Cora's room, and she's lying on her bed in plain black panties, and her halter top. There's nothing self-conscious about the way she's reclining, propped up on one elbow, with her hair running over her shoulders. 

"You gonna stand there all day, or you gonna join me?" She asks, cocking an eyebrow. 

Stiles' reply is to tug his t-shirt off over his head, and walk toward the bed. When he reaches the edge, Cora meets him there, her hands flying to his belt quicker than he can. 

He's hard in his jeans, and Cora's knuckles brush against his dick as she unbuttons them. With a tug she's got them over his hips and he doesn't give her a chance to pull them down further, before he surges forward, knocking her back on the bed. 

"Stiles," she says, laughing, as he kisses down her neck. He shoves back at his jeans, trying to get them off and to unbind his legs. Cora's legs bracket his hips, feet curling up until she's pushing his jeans off. With a kick and a shake, his jeans drop to the floor, leaving him in just his boxer-briefs. His Iron Man ones, thank you very much. 

Cora's warm and firm underneath him, and before he can process it, she's using her legs to flip them until she's sitting atop him, his dick resting in the groove of her ass, heat seeping through the two thin layers of cotton between them. 

Stiles likes being manhandled in bed, okay? It's just a thing, a thing that he has, so he's almost surprised, when slim, five-foot-four Cora grabs his arms and pins the above his head. His cock throbs because fuck yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. "Cora, Cora, Cora," he chants. "Gonna fuck you."

"Yeah?" She's all playful smiles. 

"Yeah." Stiles nods exaggeratedly, makes his serious face. 

Cora shoves at him, suppressed smile twisting the corners of her lips. "I'm gonna fuck _you_."

Grinning he closes the space between them, and carefully kisses her, almost chaste compared to their state of undress, and the way she's rubbing up and down his dick like a cat in heat. 

She lets go of his hands and trails down his body, every now and then adding a hint of nail that has Stiles bucking up against her. Kissing her way down his chest, she lifts her ass off of his dick, and he makes a noise of protest at the loss, arching up to try and get her back. 

By the time she reaches his dick, the shiny pink head is already poking over the waistband of his underwear, begging for attention. "Eager, huh?" She places a kiss on the tip, a bead of precome sticking to her lips. She licks it off. 

"Fuck, Cora!" Stiles squeezes his eyes closed, because that's way too much for his turned on brain to handle right now. 

"Yeah, yeah, gimme time." She hooks her thumbs in his underwear and drags them down his thighs until he can kick them off. "Oh yeah, lemme look at you." 

He doesn't feel the need to cover up under Cora's gaze. Her eyes are tracking all over him, like she can't decide what to look at first, and man, it's really doing it for him. She darts forward and kisses him, her nose bumping against his as she fucking _goes_ for it. Her tongue slips into his open mouth as her hand wraps around his dick. It's dry, way too dry, but fuck, controlled friction, finally. 

She's still wearing her top, and he drops his hands to her hem, sliding under and heading straight for her breasts. They've always looked so full, so ripe, and he wants to taste, he wants to touch. His hands run up her smooth, firm stomach until he's teasing against the edge of her bra. It's lace, he can feel it, and there's just enough give for him to slip his hands under, push the bra up and out of his way til her nipples are free. 

"Stiles..." She laughs and pulls away to throw off her top and bra. And then. There they are, they're heavy enough there's a tiny bit of drop to them but dusky pink nipples greet him with the imprint of the mesh bra she'd been wearing. 

He sits up, until he can get his mouth on them. The motion knocks her hand off his dick, but it's worth it, it's so totally worth it.

  
  
Art by [puckboum](http://puckboum.livejournal.com)  


"Stiles," she sighs and cards her fingers through his hand, holding him in place. "Harder."

A nip, and then another, as her hands grasp at his short hair, trying to grab hold of something and hold him in place. 

"Good boy, good boy." With one sharp tug she pulls his head back, so he's looking up at her from under hooded eyes. His lips are slick with spit and she leans down, hair waterfalling around his face to bite and kiss at his lips. 

He's got to be quick if he wants to...he wraps an arm around Cora's back and rolls them again, so she's flat on her back with him resting between her legs. "Gonna fuck youuuuu," he sing-songs, brushing his nose against hers. "Gonna fuck you good." 

"So you keep saying saying," she whispers into his mouth, and then the kisses are back, open mouthed and dirty, sloppy and wet as they fuck into each others mouths. 

He wants to taste her. It's been his jerk off fantasy for so long, that he just wants to. She giggles as he kisses her stomach and bats him away. 

"Ticklish," she says and pushes his head down, down, down. 

The black material of her panties is stained darker from the wetness at her crotch. He noses them and smells the strong scent of her, the smell that says how into this she is, that tells him she's ready and waiting for him. 

When he pulls them off, thin material rolling as he pulls it over her ass and down her thighs, he catches a glance of white on the slippery crotch, yeah, yeah, yeah, she's so fucking ready. 

He kisses one thigh, then the other, lifting them up onto his shoulders--there's no point doing this half-assed. Cora's not shaved clean, which, personal preference time? He loves that, he loves knowing a girl's not spent all that time primping and plucking just for him to see it. He can live with a little hair, gives him something to nuzzle into. (But if someone wants to? He's a-ok with that too, just, no need _just_ for him.)

Her lips are all stuck together, so he runs his tongue up them, licking them apart and getting his first taste of her, and, it's alright. Even better is the way she's squirming beneath him, trying to spread her legs wider, making her calves slip off his shoulders. He lifts them back on and continues to lick into her. 

She's got such a pretty pink cunt, the same dusky tone as her nipples, with her clit standing out hard. He seals his mouth over it, rubbing the flat of his tongue up and down over it as she writhes, hands tangling in his hair, holding his head in place. 

"Stiles! Fuck, fuck--Jesus, Stiles!" She cries as he doesn't let up; he wants her right on the edge, right there for him. He looks up the length of her body, catches the way her eyes are squeezed closed and he finally slips two fingers into her, easily, because she's so slick it's smeared down between her ass cheeks. 

Oh man, anal with Cora, he could totally be up for that, her ass is so round, and man, what if her hole is the same pretty color--there are hands tugging frantically at his hair and he pulls away.

"Fuck, Stiles! I nearly--fuck, I want to come on your cock, but shit son, your _mouth_." There's a tiny bit of awe there that makes his chest swell with pride. Aw, yeah. 

Cora pushes him off and digs a condom out of her bedside drawer and pushes it at Stiles. "Put it on." _No need to dig around in the bathroom then, huh?_

She grabs a hair tie too, and puts her hair into a messy bun. Once he's rolled the condom down his dick she pushes him onto his back onto the center of the bed. "Yeah, just lie there, just like that." 

Straddling him, she keeps herself just high enough that his cock is hovering at her cunt. She grasps the base and wets the head in her slick. Then she's sinking down onto his dick, taking it all until she's fully seated, eyes closed and lips parted. Yeah, yeah. 

Cora's tight and warm, and it feels like coming home. She arches her back, making her breasts stick out, nipples hard and yeah. "You're so fucking beautiful right now, holy shit, Cora." 

Her cheeks are flushed and her pupils totally blown, but she smiles down at him, a lazy smile that tugs at the corners of her lips. "Yeah? You're pretty hot yourself."

Two hands come to rest of his chest, palms flat and she raises herself up off of his dick, leaves just the tip in before sinking back down. His toes curl with the pleasure of it. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Do it, Cora, do it." He tries to thrust up into her, but gets barely anywhere, just grinds them together. 

She starts riding him in earnest and fuck, fuck, she's so, holy hell, he knew Cora was hot, but fuck, every thrust she lets out these little whispery moans, biting her lip and tangling her free hand in her hair. 

"Stiles...." she moans and he slips a finger between them, rests a blunt thumb where her clit bumps against his pelvis. A few adjustments and _there_ , something for her to ride against every time. She tightens her muscles at that and he whimpers, fuck, fuck, this was supposed to go on and on and on, but he doesn't know how much longer he can hold out with her fucking him. 

Then she's clenching hard around his cock, thrusts gone erratic, and those moans, holy shit, those moans. She comes with one long, drawn out 'Stiles....', and he doesn't stop rubbing his thumb against her retracting clit until she bats his hand away. 

"Holy shit," she says when she can catch her breath. Her eyes flutter open and lock with Stiles'. "Holy shit." 

He licks his lips. He wants to thrust up into her, but...he doesn't know if Cora's someone who's too sensitive after she's come, or what. "Can I?" he asks, thrusting gently. 

"Yeah," she nods. "Just...give me a minute?" 

"Want me to eat you out until you're ready?" 

She reaches a hand down to where they're joined, rubs against his dick in a way that makes him want more. "I'm pretty wet, and pretty latex-y. You sure you wanna do that?" 

He grins. His enthusiasm and lack of squick has always gone down well with his partners. "Yeah, oh yeah..."

She's wet and sensitive when he starts lapping at her. He carefully licks everywhere except at the spots that make her squirm away, or try and close her thighs, and soon enough she's urging him up and presenting herself to him. 

Her cunt's a little drier now, and still tighter than before. It takes a few thrusts and she's arching up to meet him, wrapping her legs around and pulling him in. Face to face, it lets him kiss her as much as he likes, lets him bite at her neck, as he drives into her. 

It's barely any time at all until he's coming, burying himself in her with a shout and a whimper, because, fuck, fuck, _yes_. 

Still coming back, he reaches down blindly to bring Cora off again, but she bats his hand away. "Nah, I'm good. Maybe later." She stretches unselfconsciously, there's a light sheen of sweat over her, and a fucked out look that suits her. A few stray hairs have come out of her bun and he brushes them away. 

She grins lazily at him. "That was just what I needed, you?"

"Mmm," he agrees. "Best fuck in a very, very long time." He curls around her, resting his head on her shoulder and nuzzling in. He's such a post-sex cuddler. 

The thought that the last person who was that good is Derek is there, but he tries not to think about it. He's still awake when he hears the quiet open of the front door, and Derek coming home. But he doesn't last much longer, falling asleep curled in his girlfriend's arms.


	3. Chapter 3

Chuck is a dick, but what's new? Not that it really matters, because Stiles barely even heads back to his dorm to change clothes anymore. There are enough of his that have creeped back into Cora and Derek's apartment.

Today is the first day Stiles doesn't have to get up for classes. He's still got work over the summer but today, today he is not leaving this sofa. He slept until Cora left for her final exam, and then migrated all the way to the sofa. 

"Derekkkkk," Stiles calls from the sofa. "Bring me pizza!" 

There's nothing but the sound of sizzling vegetables and the banging of pans being stirred on the stove. 

"Derekkkkk," he pleads again. There's another half hour left on this episode, and he needs pizza to make it through to the other side. He's not missing any Criminal Minds if he can help it, even if it is a rerun. "Please? I'll even sort that pile of take out containers that's building up by the trash."

There's still no response from Derek. He hasn't said anything since his, 'no, Stiles, you need to eat healthier' comment when he got home from work and Stiles first begged for pizza. 

The sound of bowls and cutlery make Stiles sulk more. Derek totally made himself dinner and won't even bring Stiles the cold pizza from the fridge. It's not like he was asking him to reheat it or--

"Move your feet." Derek nudges Stiles' legs with his knee, because his hands are full of bowls of food. "I want to sit on the sofa." 

"Go sit on the chair," Stiles whines. Friends boss friends around, friends cook friends dinner. It's normal. 

"Do you want something to eat, or not?" Derek asks with an arched eyebrow, and that, that makes Stiles sit up and pay attention. He swings his legs out of his sprawl, tugs his shirt down from where he'd been idly scratching at his belly and picking fluff out of his bellybutton. 

"Food? You made me food?" Stiles tries to sniff out what's in the bowl, all he gets is a hint of chilli and deliciousness. 

Derek drops down onto the sofa and hands one of the bowls and chopsticks over to Stiles. "I didn't say I wouldn't get you food, just that you should eat healthier." 

The noodles burn a little when he tries to take a bite, and Derek rolls his eyes as Stiles blows on the second bite before he puts it in his mouth. 

"This is good!" Stiles accidentally spits a couple of them at Derek as he stuffs them in. This is way better than pizza. Totally worth it. 

Derek huffs heartedly and eats his noodles in silence. "What happened to Reid?" 

"He's tied up in the shed, with the guy with the bible and the gun."

"Shit." Derek takes another bite of his noodles. 

"Yeah, I never get sick of this episode, wait for it, he's going to grab the vials in a second. Reid, don't do it, don't do it."

Stiles flops back onto the sofa as the episode draws to an end. There's something about the whole addiction being played out behind the scenes, with Reid handling it on his own until people let him know that he doesn't have to be. They know, and they're proud of how he's doing. 

Derek places his empty bowl onto the coffee table, chopsticks balanced on top. "When's the next episode on?" 

Stiles puts his bowl next to Derek's and lets himself slide down until he can put his feet on the table too. "Not til tomorrow, they're showing all of this season, an episode each night."

"That sucks balls." Derek grabs the remote from him, and starts flipping through. Stiles can't be too angry; he's had control of the TV all day. 

"There's a Law & Order marathon on USA, I was probably going to watch that next." 

Derek keeps flicking. "But Doctor Who is on BBC America." 

"Yeah, but next week I won't be able to watch any crime shows, because Dad spends forever picking everything wrong and unbelievable with them. It ruins the ~mystery." 

Derek doesn't say anything, but switches over to Law & Order. They make it past the credits before he speaks, "It's two weeks, right?" 

Stiles cranes his neck to get a better look at Derek. He's had the trip back home planned since Christmas. It's his dad's birthday, and it's the only time he's getting off this summer. "You're welcome to come, you know."

Derek's eyes are fixed on the TV, but the tension in his posture, the way he won't look down at Stiles, it tells him that Derek's changed his mind, or is at least having second thoughts. 

When he'd started dating Cora it'd been the perfect chance for his dad and friends to meet her, and they'd invited Derek because he wanted his friends to meet him too, and it sucked that they would be leaving him by himself for a couple of weeks. "Seriously, it wasn't like, some stupid token offer. I want you to meet Scott, and my dad. I want to show you where I grew up. It'd be awesome. It wasn't a pity offer; I meant it." 

"You're taking your girlfriend home to meet your dad, Stiles. You can't take her brother as well, that's weird." Derek's clicking the back of the remote in and out, still not looking at Stiles, so Stiles pulls himself up and turns to properly face Derek. 

"I'm taking Cora home, and she was my friend long before she was my girlfriend. You _know_ how much I suck at making friends, so dad and Scott meeting her, meeting you, it's important. You're a big part of my life even if we're not dating, or whatever. Cora's never going to dump you out of her life, and I have no plans to friend-dump you. So, come back home with me?" It's not weird to invite your friends home with you--people totally do it all the time. It doesn't--it doesn't mean anything. 

Stiles tugs on Derek's arm. He spent enough nights trying to drag Derek into the position he wants to know he can't move Derek without Derek's cooperation, but he wants his attention. He wants Derek to look at him. 

"Derek, it'll be awesome, man. I could show you like, the preserve, and we could make Dad let us ride around in the cruiser. Oh man, you can even see, like the only gay club in the whole area, and it's pretty shitty compared to what we've got here. But, it's totally where I--" Stiles chokes, great, tell the virginity story to lure Derek back to Beacon Hills. 

He tugs on Derek's arm again, and this time Derek rolls his head to face Stiles. Derek's face is closed, Stiles hates to see it like that. Before, he'd just lean over, kiss it back open, make out until Derek was relaxed and calm again, but he can't--they're not like that anymore, he has Cora now. 

"Please? It'll be totally awesome. I promise." 

"I don't...I'd be a third wheel. There won't be space enough for me, and everyone will think it's weird that you've brought me home too." 

He makes a dismissive noise. "It's my house and my family. Trust me, you will be the least weird thing that I've brought home, and we have the guest room and my dad's office has a sofabed in it. It's not exactly the most comfortable place to sleep, but it's better than my dorm bed. So, is that a yes? It's totally a yes, right?"

When Derek rolls his eyes, fuck, rolls his neck, he knows that he's totally won. He jumps onto Derek, wrapping his arms around him, before he can get any words out. 

"You totally won't regret it! You're going to love it! Oh my god, I need to tell dad, and Scott, and Cora!" This is literally the best. He can't wait to show him around--to show Derek where he grew up, to see him and Scott meet, to show Derek where he and Scott used to get drunk in the woods, the porch swing and the yard, and his amazing collection of Tolkien books. 

A strong arm wraps around him, and Derek's breath is hot against his shoulder as he speaks. "I didn't actually say yes." But there's bemusement in his voice, and he's pulling Stiles closer, not pushing him away. 

"But it is a yes." Stiles can't wait. 

"Yeah, it's a 'yes', you brat." The fondness makes Stiles' toes curl. "Now get off me, I've got to book my tickets." 

Stiles squeezes once, tightly, before climbing off him. "Man, this is going to be awesome." 

Derek snorts, grabbing his laptop off the table. "So you keep saying."

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and digs the booking email out. "Yeah, and I'm always right. Here, we're on the 10:29 out of JFK..." 

They can't get Derek sitting near them, but they manage to get him on the same flight for not much extra, but no way can they get him on the same coming back. It's only an hour earlier, and it doesn't really matter, because _Derek's coming home too_. He should... that's not too friendly right? Too over the line? Because he's invited Derek now, and he can't uninvite him, and Cora had seemed fine when he'd brought it up with her?

 

*

"So we're still on for next Sunday at three thirty?" His dad's sitting too close to the lamp, so he's just a dark blur on screen, but Stiles gave up trying to get him to use Skype right a month after he moved to New York. 

"Yeah, and I'm bringing along a friend, if that's okay?" 

There's fond exasperation in his dad's voice. "You already told me you were bringing you girlfriend. You don't need to go back to calling her a friend." 

Stiles rolls his eyes. "No, not Cora, her brother Derek's coming with us too. I'd say 'if that's alright with you', but I spent most of last night convincing him to come too." 

"Stiles..." His dad says, wearily.

"No, no! He _wanted_ to come. He just thought he'd be intruding or something. I don't know, Derek's stupid. I want to show him Beacon Hills. I want you to meet him. It's--he's how I met Cora, and he's a big part of my life. So." 

"Course he's welcome, kid. Where do you want me to put him?" 

Stiles scratches the back of his neck and tries not to look at his dad. Because this might be a little awkward. "I kinda thought me and Cora could take the double in the guest room, and Derek could have my single?"

"Yeah? Did you now?" 

"Uh, yeah? Because I'm totally twenty years old, and she's twenty years old; we've been dating for months, and we're using protection, which--"

"God kid, you don't pull the punches do you? Fine. You and Cora can take the guest, Derek can have your room. Any other surprises for me? Adopted a dog, or bringing home your roommate?"

"Urgh, don't mention Chuck, he's a dick."

"Nice to see some things don't change." The doorbell rings back at home, and his dad nearly drops the laptop as he rushes to angle it away from the door. 

Huh, who's calling on his dad? "Ohhhh, expecting someone? You're looking pretty smart, now that I think about it." Stiles teases. 

"Oh this? This is just, uh, my normal stuff's in the wash and--dammit, she's early." The doorbell rings again. "Do you mind if we--" 

"Got a date, huh dad?" Stiles cackles evilly. 

"Shut up, Stiles," he says fondly, moving out of view as he places the laptop on the table. "See you on Sunday?" His dad crouches down so his face is in the screen. 

"Yeah, see you then! Make sure you're _safe_!" He's still cackling as his dad slams the lid closed on the laptop, ending the call. 

His dad dating, who would've thought it? Stiles searches around on the bed, looking for his phone. Scott'll know who his dad's dating, or he could probably try and figure it out. 

*

"How far away from the airport is your place?" Cora asks, dropping a pile of fresh laundry onto the bed next to Stiles. They leave in the morning, and she and Derek have just started packing. 

"It's like a hundred miles, but dad said he'd drive down and pick us up." He shifts on the bed,pulls a pair of socks out from under him, and hands them wordlessly to Cora. 

"What do you think, this tank top, or this one?" She holds two different tops up that, honest to god, look identical to Stiles 

"Uh..." He hesitates.

"Haha, you goober, they're the same top." She grins, and quickly folds both, dropping them into her holdall. "You can never have enough plain tanks." 

Of course they are, fucking Cora, this is why he loves her. 

"So, couple of hours drive back to yours, huh? What's your dad like? What should I bring him as a present?" 

"You really don't have to--"

"It's his birthday, and I'm a guest in his house, we totally do. Derek already bought him a quick and healthy recipes book." She hands Stiles a pile of clothes and he starts folding. 

"He did?" A pang of guilt runs through him, because now he's imagining if Derek was the one he was bringing home as his boyfriend, and the thought makes him happy. He'd be so fucking proud to introduce Derek to his dad. Well, He gets to do it anyway, just--as a friend. 

"Uh-huh, pretty much all we know about your dad is he's a cop and he doesn't eat healthily enough for your liking." 

"Hm, whatever you do, just don't get him a bottle of something, maybe. Shit, I don't know. I bought him the Walking Dead boxset. He's kinda hard to buy for." 

Cora moves toward the bathroom with her toiletries bag in hand. "I don't need a towel, right?" 

"Nah, we got you covered there." Stiles eyes the rather large pile of clothes he's just folded. "You can wash clothes at my house, you know, right?" 

"I know, but you never know what I might want to wear. You should see how _Derek_ packs, he's like a hundred times worse than me." 

"I heard that!" Derek shouts from his room. "And it never hurts to be over-packed instead of under-packed."

"Yeah, yeah!" Cora hollers back. "I know." She returns to the bedroom, and drops her toiletry bag and hairbrush onto the pile to pack. "Where exactly are you from, anyway? I know within a hundred miles of [airport name], but it'd be nice to know exactly _where_."

Stiles laughs. He can't believe it's never come up in conversation. Okay, he doesn't know where Cora and Derek are from specifically, but they seem touchy about it. He doesn't care that they know where home is. "Oh shit, have I never actually--I've known you guys for nearly a year!"

"Apparently not, so where are we heading?" 

"It's this shitty little town that somehow got a county named after it, I swear to god you'll have never heard of it." 

"And it is..." She prompts.

"Oh, Beacon Hills. It's way up in Beacon County, right on the edge of the Mendocino National Forest..." He trails off, because Cora has stopped and is staring at him. 

"What did you say?" Her voice is hollow, cold and so very serious. 

"Uh, Beacon Hills? It's mostly trees and some people--" 

"Beacon Hills?" Cora's clutching at the jean's she'd been folding so hard her knuckles are turning white. 

"Yeah, uh, what's wrong? Cora?" Stiles gets up, moves so he can grab hold of her arms. "Cora? How'd you know Beacon Hills?" Because it's obvious that the name has upset Cora, or the place.

"It's where we're from." Stiles swings to see Derek standing in the doorway. 

"What?!" He can't be serious, Stiles would have noticed people as hot as Derek and Cora growing up in Beacon Hills. Hell, Cora's the same age as him, and there are only two schools in town.

Derek walks to Cora, and takes the jeans out of her hands, dropping them onto the bed. "It's okay," he tells her, brushing a stray hair out of her face. "It's all okay." 

"He's from Beacon Hills." Cora's eyes dart to Stiles. "What are the chances we meet someone from there? Do you know how big New York is?" 

Derek nods, and Stiles really isn't getting this. What happened that was _that_ bad in Beacon Hills? Nothing happens in Beacon Hills, except-- "You're...you're Derek Hale. Cora and Derek Hale." Shit, he doesn't know how he didn't realize it before. "Shit, shit--I didn't--we don't have to go back. I can, we could cancel. It's not--" Because the Hale house burnt down to the ground, and Stiles had thought almost everyone with it. Except, apparently, Derek, Cora, and Laura. "I'm so sorry." 

"It's just a shock," Derek says, rubbing Cora's arm. "We haven't... we haven't been back. Since." 

Since what goes unsaid. "I was a kid when it happened. I remember dad coming home, smelling like smoke. Said it was bad business." He pauses. "He'll understand if we need to cancel."

"I want to go," Cora says. "Derek, can we go? I want to--I never got to say goodbye. You and Laura, you were in town afterward, but I--I haven't been there since that night." 

"Cora..." Derek looks torn, like he knows it's going to hurt, but he doesn't want to say no to his sister. "I don't know if it's such a good idea...especially without Laura." 

Cora frowns. Stiles recognizes her stubborn face. He's lost a million arguments to that face. She's a little angry--Cora never likes being told what to do. "Laura's never even around anymore; she doesn't get to be the boss of me." 

"Even if she isn't here, she's still--" Derek's eyes flit to Stiles, then back to Cora. "--the oldest."

"The tickets are booked, we're expected and...we've got Stiles, it won't--" She takes a breath, then finishes in a small voice. "Please, I want to." 

Derek pulls her into a hug. She's short enough, without her shoes, that she fits under Derek's chin. "You're sure?" 

She nods. "I want to go home." 

Cora's never sounded so vulnerable before and Derek doesn't look like he's doing much better. Stiles doesn't think. He just wraps his arms around the pair of them, joining their hug. Because they're his family now, and seeing them hurting hurts. They stay like that a long time, the three of them, Derek wrapped around Cora, and Stiles wrapped around them both.

*

"Dad!" Stiles shouts, dropping his bag so he can wrap his dad in a hug. He hasn't seen him in six months, since Christmas, and it's so good to see him. His dad feel smaller in his arms, like he does every time he goes home. There's nothing frail about Sheriff Stilinski, but Stiles can see the difference in age, can see how much older he looks in only six months. 

"Good to see you too, kid." His dad never sounds the same over the computer or phone as he does in real life. 

They have a moment before his dad asks, "So, you going to introduce me to your friends?" 

"Oh, right, dad, this is Cora." They shake hands. "And Derek." 

Stiles hadn't even thought about telling his dad about Cora and Derek, because he'd only found out the day before. But there's the look, the Sheriff Stilinski look, a quick glance between them, eyes taking in everything about them, yeah, shit, his dad recognizes them. 

"Cora and Derek... Hale?" His dad asks, dubiously. 

"Uh, yeah, they're from--here. Actually. Funny thing. In the whole of New York I manage to meet someone from Beacon Hills. Small world, huh?" He begs his dad silently not to bring up the fire right now, not when this is their first time meeting his dad--their first time back in California for all he knows. 

His dad gets it, because his dad is fucking awesome. "Nice to meet you, son, miss," his dad says to each in turn. "C'mon, I'm parked in the short-term lot, and I don't want that meter to get any more of my change than it has to. Need a hand with the bags?"

They all decline and make their way to the parking garage. When they reach it, Stiles spots the cruiser. 

"Oh my god, dad! Could you not?!" He points at the car and frowns. Why the heck would dad bring his cruiser all the way down here? His Jeep would have been way better. 

"I wasn't going to bring the Jeep. One it probably won't make the trip--"

"She can!"

"--and two, the clutch is a killer on my knee. No. The cruiser has better gas mileage, and is way more comfortable. End of." 

Stiles sulks as they put their luggage in the trunk and shotguns the front seat before Cora or Derek can. It's an act of mercy, really, he's saving them both from being stuck up the front with his dad. 

Cora's chatty all the way until they hit the edge of Beacon County, then she falls quiet. Stiles knew there must have been something horrible that left the three siblings in New York without any family, it's just--he'd always thought it'd been something stupid like a car crash, or--not that their entire house had burned to the ground. He can't remember, but he knows it wasn't just two people that died in that fire, maybe eight? nine? Fuck, it nearly killed Stiles just losing his mom. He can't imagine how they feel. 

His dad pulls up the cruiser next to the Jeep in the driveway, and Stiles is out as soon as the brake's on, because his _baby_. He can't--he doesn't want this to be solemn, for their first memory of his home to be like this. 

"Is dad taking care of you?" He coos to his Jeep, running a hand along her front wing. "Cora, Derek! Come see my baby." 

"Stiles! Let them at least get into the house first! Christ, I'd apologize, but you probably know what he's like." 

"But the Jeep's out here! They'd just have to come in and back out again." There's nothing angry in the argument, it's just Stilinski bickering, it's familiar and it feels like _home_. 

"Help them get their bags in, and I won't tell the story about the pants." 

Stiles narrows his eyes, Stilinski bargaining, huh? Home home home, he is home. "You wouldn't do that to me."

His dad laughs, a full belly laugh. "Kid, this is the first time you've brought someone home who isn't Scott. I'm going to _enjoy_ this!" 

"Oh my god, I hate you," Stiles grumbles. He slings an arm around Derek and Cora, pulls Cora in so he can drop a kiss on the side of her head, and squeezes Derek's shoulder. It'll be okay. They'll be okay. Stiles won't let them not be okay. "C'mon, I need to show you my room, and, oh man, wait til you see my Nerf guns. They're gonna blow you away." 

There's something good about having nearly all the people he loves under one roof; all he needs is Scott and it'll be perfect. 

*

"Melissa's coming over for dinner, if that's okay?" Cora and Derek are unpacking upstairs, while Stiles and his dad are getting things ready for dinner. 

"Uh, yeah? Why wouldn't it be?" Stiles puts the cans on the side and narrows his eyes.

"No reason, just thought you might want to have a quiet meal with your friends your first night back." 

"Hm, but I already invited Scott..." Something's up, something is definitely, suspiciously up.

"Who is your friend." His dad's got the carrots out and is chopping them very attentively. 

"Melissa's come for dinner plenty of times before, and you've never asked."

"Jesus, Stiles, will you just drop it? I'll let Mel know she can come over and that's--"

"Mel? Since when do you call Mrs. McCall 'Mel'?"

His dad groans and stops chopping. "Oh God."

His dad acting odd. Possible a new girlfriend in his life. Calling Mrs. McCall 'Mel', inviting her to dinner--"OH MY GOD! You're dating Mrs. McCall!" Stiles swings around to face his dad, mouth flapping as he tries to find the words. This is going to be...this is going to be... 

"I know it's a bit of a surprise, as we were--I was going to tell you boys tonight at dinner. But, well, me and Mel have been spending a little time together, and maybe gone out on a few--" 

"Get married!" This is amazing. If his dad and Scott's mom got married then he and Scott would be like, actual, legal brothers. It'd be epic, and she's a nurse, so she'd be on his dad about his health, and they wouldn't be alone. He wouldn't have to worry about his dad in this big, old, empty house. It'd be epic. 

"What?! Kid, no! We're not there yet--"

His dad has gone red! Totally red. This is epic. "But you might be? You totally should, oh my god, I need to tell Scott, like, right _now_."

He fishes his phone out of his pocket, has it unlocked and two words typed before his dad snatches it off of him. "Stiles! It was supposed to be a nice, calm reveal. Don't spoil it for Mel! You're going to sit down to dinner, make nice, and look surprised when we both tell you, not like the lunatic I've quite clearly raised." 

"But, it's Scott! And his mom!" Stiles protests, trying to grab his phone back. "We need to bond over how awesome this is." 

His phone goes into his dad's pocket. "Look, cut me some slack, alright? Mel was really anxious about telling you two, and she has it all planned out."

"But--"

"You're sleeping upstairs with your girlfriend, aren't you? Wasn't I pretty nice and accommodating about that?" 

Stiles narrows his eyes. His dad totally buttered him up, totally played him. "You--"

His dad's grinning at him. "Yeah, kid, I'm not the Sheriff because of my pretty face." 

Stiles laughs, being home is good. "Yeah? Could've fooled me. Man, this is going to be so exciting, I can't wait til Scott finds out." 

The grin turns into a fond smile. "I'm glad you're okay with is. I was worried it was too soon..."

The tightness in his chest is instant. "Dad, it's...it's been a long time. It's--you don't deserve to be lonely. No one does." 

The hug is bone crushing and just the way he likes them. He's been tall enough to fit into the crook of his dad's neck since he was sixteen. Mom would've wanted dad happy, not lonely. 

"Well, you certainly won't be, will you? Trust you to bring two people home to meet the family." 

Stiles blushes, glad his face is hidden. "It's not like that, we're just--friends."

His dad snorts, finally letting go. "Sure you are kid, now c'mon, this dinner isn't going to cook itself."

Stiles groans. "We should totally have Derek in here helping us, he's epic in the kitchen."

"Oh is he?" His dad asks, with a corny as fuck eyebrow waggle. 

"Oh my god, _dad_." He throws a piece of carrot at his dad. "You're the worst!" 

*

Derek hovers in the doorway making pained faces at the pair of them until they cave and let him help them cook dinner. It's only stir fry, but quite apparently they're doing it wrong, or so his face says. 

When everything's under control, Derek slips upstairs and comes back down in a button-down shirt, Cora's just wearing a plain top and jeans, but Derek, no, Derek's gone a little too smart. 

"What?" Derek says, when he catches Stiles watching him. 

"Nothin'." Stiles grins, and carries on observing Derek fiddling with his hair in front of the hall mirror. "Your hair's fine, y'know. This is just a family dinner." 

"Yeah, but it's the first time we've met your dad, and..." Derek trails off, dropping his hands next to his side. 

Stiles can almost hear the words, 'I want to make a good first impression', but it's not--Derek's just his friend, do friends even want to make a good impression? Apparently this one does. "Dude, you cooked, you just made, like, the best first impression ever. Scott's mom sucks at cooking too. Seriously, you should see the four of us every Thanksgiving and Christmas; it's a fucking disaster." 

"You're sure?" Derek loses all the years his stubble gives him when he asks in that small, unsure voice. The hope laced through it makes Stiles' heartache. Because it reminds Stiles that Derek hasn't had any sort of adult in his life for a long time, just him and Laura and Cora. 

Derek's still a couple of inches taller than him, but when they hug they fit together perfectly. Stiles gives them a moment but has to pull away, because he could hug Derek all day, but he can't--they're just friends. _They're just friends._ "Wait til you meet Scott's mom. She's awesome, seriously. I can't wait til they tell Scott about her and my dad. We're going to be brothers, me and Scott, like, officially." 

He sends Derek off toward the dining room, and heads upstairs to find Cora. He finds her standing in his old bedroom, thumbing through his CD collection. "Man, don't judge me on that." 

She holds up “Take Off Your Pants and Jacket” and raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Hey, that you can't judge me on that because it's a _classic_. But the other shit down there, yeah, that you can judge me on." He sides up to her, knocking their shoulders as he drops to grab a Madonna album. "I have no idea what I was thinking when I bought this." 

Cora wraps an arm around him. "You were thinking that knowing her hits would be vital to the sheer amount of time you've spent in gay clubs." 

Letting out a whuff of amusement, he draws Cora around and into his arms, until they're wrapped around each other and he can nuzzle against her, brush his lips over hers, once, twice, until they segue into a kiss. 

"What do you think of my room then?" They're still close enough that he goes a little cross-eyed trying to look at Cora, but her hands fit so perfectly around his hips that he doesn't want to move back. 

"It's...the room of a teenage boy." She wrinkles her nose a little.

"Hey, dad totally aired this place out, and there are fresh sheets on the bed." 

"Mmhmm, but most definitely the same mattress." She looks pointedly at it and pulls a face. 

"No way you can smell that. I haven't jerked off in here since Christmas!" 

"Oh, trust me, a decade of you, and you're in entrenched every part of this room." Cora's hands have slipped down to stroke his jean-clad ass. "You ever had anyone back here?" 

Stiles' tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he tastes Cora there. "Nope," he draws the word out. "Never anyone but me and my hand here." He moves forward, backing Cora up until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed. 

"Hmmm, if Derek wasn't going to sleep in that bed I'd _love_ to see about changing that." They're chest to chest now, and he can feel his dick getting fatter with interest. 

"Derek'll never know..." Stiles whispers against her lips. 

Kissing Cora will never get old--the feel of her lips, the brush of her nose against his, the way she tip toes and he stoops. 

"Stiles!" His dad's voice comes from downstairs. "Melissa's here and the food's getting cold! Stop fooling around and get your ass down here."

Stiles groans and lets his weight fall forward onto Cora a little. "Fuck me," he complains. 

Cora snorts, shoving him off her easily and standing up, straightening out her hair in the small mirror next to his bed. "Maybe later, first we've got food." 

She offers Stiles a hand up, and he takes it, brow furrowing as she pulls him up without any effort. Sometimes Cora's strength freaks him a little. She's so fucking strong (it's so fucking hot). 

"Stiles!" His dad calls again. 

"Coming!" Stiles shouts back and grins at Cora as she mouths the word 'soon' to him. 

Scot and his mom are already sitting at the table, along with a very awkward-looking Derek. Scott jumps up and gives him a full on tackle-hug when he enters the room. 

"Dude!" Scott says, hugging him tight. 

"Bro, seriously, I missed you." 

"Yeah me too." 

They break apart, and he stoops to give Scott's mom a quick hug. "Hey, Mrs. McCall, it's good to see you." 

"Hey Stiles, I've just been talking to your boyfriend, Derek, he's--" Scott's mom says. 

"--not my boyfriend?" Stiles pulls back awkwardly and rubs a hand over the back of his head. "Uh, that's Derek, Cora's brother, and this is Cora, my girlfriend." He steps back so she can see Cora, standing by the door. 

"Oh! Uh..." Scott's mom is totally flustered. 

"Hi, Mrs. McCall," Cora says, sweet as pie, and holds her hand out. 

"God, I'm so sorry, way to stick your foot in it, Melissa. Hi ,sweetheart, you can call me Melissa." She turns to Derek. "And sorry, Derek. You just seemed--John said Stiles was bringing someone home, but he didn't--"

Even though it's kinda funny, she's totally floundering, and Stiles isn't that much of a dick. Especially when it's pretty fucking easy to mistake Derek for his boyfriend, considering at one point they pretty much were. "It's okay, Mrs. McCall," Stiles says, with a shrug. "I don't--I like guys too, but Cora is like, one hundred percent the person for me." 

"Aw, Stiles, you say the sweetest things," Cora says dryly.

He ducks his head, tries to hide his cheeks. "I kinda mean it though." 

Cora's hand finds his and laces their fingers together. "I know." 

"Bro, is this how I was when I first met Alison?" Scott has taken the seat next to Derek and is already reaching for the soy sauce. 

"You were way, wayyyyy worse. I swear I literally vomited from the schmoop more than once." Stiles leads Cora around to the other side of the table and sits down. 

"So, Cora, you're a student too?" His dad asks, digging into his stir fry. 

"Uh, yes sir. Architecture." Cora goes for the chopsticks, probably the first person in this house that's ever opted for them. His mom had brought them back from a trip to San Francisco. 

"No need for 'sir', call me 'John'," his dad goes for the fork, like he always does.

"This is good, way too good!" Scott's mom exclaims on the first bite. "Did you boys cheat and order out?" 

Both of them turn to look at Derek, who shrinks under their gaze. 

"Did you make this? Derek this is amazing. You should be a chef." 

"Uh, thanks Mrs. McCall." Derek's using chopsticks, too, and moves his food over the plate. "It wasn't--there aren't that many fresh ingredients here, it could be better." He glances warily at Stiles' dad, like he might have insulted him. Stiles shrugs, as if to say, 'it's all cool'. 

"Call me Melissa. What do you do?" Melissa asks, before putting more delicious noodles into her mouth. She's totally right, this is awesome, but that's not surprise. Derek's kinda epic at cooking. 

"Um..." Derek's staring at his noodles, clearly uncomfortable. 

"Derek...works at a butchers," Stiles adds. He gets that Derek's kinda touchy about his job, and meat-packing is mostly a butchers. Same kinda thing? 

"Oh, you know your meat then, huh?" 

Cora splutters and chokes at the other end of the table, and Scott bursts out laughing. Oh god, Stiles smacks her back, trying to help her clear it. Oh god. Cora's gone bright red and Derek is trying to make himself as small as possible. Oh god. 

"What did I--Oh! Oh god, Derek! I didn't! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to--" Melissa stands up, knocking her chair back. "I'm going to get some water!" And runs into the kitchen. 

Stiles rubs Cora's back in soothing circles as she stops coughing and takes a sip of the water Melissa's brought back. 

"Sorry, Derek," Cora says, when she can speak again. 

He shrugs. "Don't worry about it." But Stiles does, because Derek's uncomfortable and that blows. He looks around the table. He needs something that will pull attention away from Derek. 

Stiles drops a hand onto Derek's shoulder and squeezes. "Hey, look at it this way, at least everyone knows more people around this table like cock than don't."

There's silence for a minute where everyone stares at each other around the table. He can see them counting in their heads. It's broken when his dad winces, and says, "Aw, Stiles! Did you have to? I didn't need that mental image, for _any of you_."

Stiles grins, mission accomplished, and a nice segue for... "Are you sure you don't want to think about _any_ of us like that?" He pointedly looks at Scott's mom, then back to his dad. 

"Ew, Stiles, stop making me picture my mom naked!" Scott complains. 

All's fair, Melissa totally outed Derek, so here goes. "Hey, it's not my fault that's what dad is thinking about." 

Neither of the parents deny it. His dad just reaches over and laces his fingers with Melissa's. "So, kids, there's something we've been meaning to tell you..." 

Melissa smiles at his dad and brings her other hand up to cover their joined ones. The looks on their faces are...shit they're really in love, and it's freaking awesome. 

"Holy shit!" Scott says, almost knocking his glass of water. Only Derek's quick reflexes managing to catch it in time. "This is awesome! Me and Stiles are going to be, like, legal brothers!"

"I know right?!" Stiles holds his hand out for a fist bump and Scott doesn't disappoint. "Dad totally confiscated my phone so I couldn't tell you earlier!"

"Whoa, slow down boys!" Melissa calls. "We said dating. We didn't say we were getting married." 

Stiles laughs. "So, no shotgun wedding, huh Melissa?" 

"Stiles!" she shouts, all mock indignation. 

"Aw, does this mean there's no 'cool uncle Stiles' in my future?" 

"I'm way too old to be doing that again." 

"Yeah, kid, I've just got you out the house. I will settle for being 'grandad', not 'dad'." 

"Dad! Totally not cool." Stiles shoots a nervous glance at Cora who just grins, clearly enjoying watching the family shenanigans. "I told you we were using protection!"

"Stiles!"  
"Stiles!" 

Cora and his dad shout at the same time.

Stiles just grins. "All the arguments will be mineeee." 

The rest of meal kinda goes without incident. Scott tells them about Allison and what she's been up to, with reassurances that they'll get to meet her on Wednesday when they come over for dinner. Scott drives him and his mom home, and the rest of them slowly head up to bed.

Cora's curled around him, almost asleep when he hears her whisper, "Your family's awesome."

He nods, thinks of Cora choking, of Derek trying to hide into his dinner, of Scott laughing, and Melissa's bright-red cheeks, and his dad's bitchface. "You all kinda are," he tells her, and pulls her close. 

*

He spends most of the week showing Cora and Derek around town as he knew it, places he'd grown up, he takes them out the Jungle mid-week and it's...weird having them in his life. He can see when one of them knows a place, too. They lived in Beacon Hills too, before, and their house is right on the edge of the preserve. As he shows them places they show him places, and it's--it's cool. 

He finds out Cora's favorite place to pick up slushies is the same as his, and Derek first fucked a guy in the same club Stiles did (except Derek was classy enough to go outside, where as Stiles just used the toilets). 

He wonders what it would have been like if their house hadn't burned. Maybe he would have met Derek at Jungle, or Cora at school. Maybe they would have been friends, maybe they would have been mortal enemies. Maybe Stiles would have been obsessed with Cora Hale and not Lydia Martin, maybe Derek would have been the guy to take Stiles' virginity. 

It's funny how one action could have changed the course of everything. 

On Saturday, he leaves the Jeep's keys to Derek and Cora, and he and dad take the cruiser out to see his mom. They spend a bit of time clearing the flowers away and tidying the grave, and then they both spend a little time talking to her. 

He thinks his mom would've loved Derek, and she would have butted heads with Cora constantly, but she would have loved her all the same. He tells his mom that they're finally eating properly again, now that Derek's in their lives, and how Cora's going to build the most beautiful houses you've ever seen. 

If he cries a few times there's no one but his dad to see. 

He's mostly worn down when he notices how low the sun is in the sky, and there's something in him that needs to be home _now_. 

"You ready to head home, dad?" 

"Yeah, kid." His dad wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in. 

The drive home is taking too long. He checks his messages but there's nothing there, he feels off, and the feeling doesn't leave during the drive. 

When they pull into the drive, he's out of the car before his dad's even switched off the engine, taking the stairs two at a time and heading toward his bedroom. Pulled by a sense of urgency that he doesn't understand, because everything was okay when he left and there's no reason it shouldn't still be now. 

Cora and Derek are both lying on his bed, and both of them have very clearly been crying. Cora's phone is ringing on the side, but she ignores it. 

"What's wrong?" He drops down next to them, reaches out to run his hand down Cora's arm. "What happened?" 

They're both curled toward each other, Derek's arm slung over Cora's waist, and hers grasping on to his other arm. Derek's phone starts ringing, he can hear it in Derek's jacket, hastily dropped at the end of the bed. 

He tries to direct the question at Derek, hoping that'll get a response. It's like they haven't even registered that he's in the room. "Derek? What's wrong?" 

Derek's eyes flit up and meet Stiles'. "We went out to the house." That's all he needs to say, because shit, he didn't--he thought they were going to wait for him, or that they'd decided not to do it. 

Cora's phone is ringing again, and it's driving Stiles fucking crazy. They won't stop ringing. 

"For fucks sake, hang on." He grabs the ringing phone, and doesn't even bother to look at who it is before answering. "Hello?!"

"Hello?!" The equally aggravated voice on the other end answers. "Who is this?! Where are Cora and Derek?!" 

He pulls the phone away from his ear and actually checks who's calling. Laura. "Oh, Laura, hi!" He tries for a less stressed voice, because this is the first time he's spoken to the mysterious Laura. If it wasn't for the room full of clothes, he'd be half convinced Laura didn't exist. "Cora and Derek are fine--" 

"No they're not," Laura answers, and crap, okay, she sounds like a fricking lawyer. "What's wrong with them? I'm their sister."

"I know, and if you'd let me finish--" Dial back the sarcasm, dial it back. Good first impressions and all that shit. "They're just a little upset." He looks at the partly catatonic pair of siblings and amends, "Okay, a lot upset." 

"Seeing as you're not in the apartment, I need you to tell me exactly where you are, because I'm coming right there." 

"Yeah, that's probably not an option, hey, what are you doing at the apartment? They said you were working abroad on a case." Stiles checks that there's nothing the pair of them need right now and takes the conversation into the hall. 

"I thought--it'd been longer than I thought, so I figured I'd surprise them with a visit home." Now that she's not angry, Laura sounds really tired. "And they weren't here, and hadn't been for--days. So I felt..." Laura trails off, searching for words. "They weren't answering their phones." It's clear there's something Laura isn't saying, but he doesn't know what it is. It's pretty strange that Laura's visit is at the exact time they'd left New York for the west coast. 

"We're in California, I...they came home to meet my dad, and, we're..." Should he just tell Laura where they are? Fuck it, he's just going to tell her. "We're in Beacon Hills."

There's silence on the end of the phone, for longer than there should be. "You're Stiles?" 

"Uh, yeah. I don't know if--" 

"They've both mentioned you,” Laura says absently. Then she raises her voice, "And you took them back to Beacon Hills?"

"Yeah, I-- they knew, it's just..." He feels like he's being interrogated. "I didn't know they'd head out to your old house!" 

There's a breath, then another. "Stiles? I'm going to need you to do a couple of things for me. Where are they?" 

Instructions. He can totally take instructions. "They're lying on my bed." He heads toward the kitchen. 

"Okay, you're going to need to hold them, and just be physically close to them for a little bit, understand? Now would be the perfect time for a nap, if you feel like one. If your bed isn't big enough, move to one that's bigger. They've obviously gone to your bed because they feel safe there, so if you do move, can you just...take the blankets with you." 

Stiles wants to say, 'they're people, not puppies', but Laura's their sister, and has years of looking after them, so he's not about to argue with her. "Yeah, I would've...that's pretty much what I was going to do anyway." Climb in with them had been number one on his list of things to do. 

"When are they coming back from Beacon Hills?" 

"We're not due home for another week." Stiles wedges the phone between his cheek and shoulder, and fills up a few glasses with water. 

Laura sighs. "I have PTO, I can probably extend my time off until then. I could pick up some cases in the New York office." 

"I'll let them know you'll be there when we get home." 

"Thanks, and Stiles...?" 

"Yes?"

"I look forward to meeting you." 

He hangs up and carries the glasses up to his bedroom. When he gets there, Cora and Derek are still curled up facing each other. 

"Hey guys, got room for one more in there?" Even though it's a bright, sunny day outside, he feels like he should whisper, like there's something solemn or secret about the room. 

Derek shifts a little more toward the wall, and Stiles rests a knee on the foot of the bed before slowly crawling up, mindful of their limbs. It's a tight fit for the three of them on his single bed, but he keeps his torso a little further down the bed. 

It's warm between them, and for a minute Stiles wishes he could've turned up the A/C before he started this. There are warm hands on his side, and he's being turned until his back is flush with Derek. He puts his arms out and draws Cora close to him. Derek's arm thrown over the pair of them, and then he's got Derek's stubble tickling his neck and Cora's face pressed into his shoulder. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Stiles asks, through a mouthful of Cora's hair. 

"No," Cora answers, and Derek shakes his head slightly, but enough for Stiles to feel. "It hurts." 

Stiles nods, he gets that. He thinks of his mom's grave, under there by herself. "Yeah." 

They don't say anything else, but their breathing slowly syncs up. Derek inhales as Cora and Stiles exhale. The regular pattern of their breaths, slow and deep, slowly drags Stiles to sleep. 

*

A throat clearing wakes Stiles up. "Five more minutes," he begs, and tries to roll over. Except he can't. Because there's someone there, a very large, heavy someone. 

He opens an eye to a very shirtless Derek, man, he's missed those muscles, and the ridiculous face attached to them, but what...? He's baking, which is probably because there's a semi-naked person on either side of him. Cora's kicked off her jeans, and he and Derek are shirtless. What the hell? 

The throat clears again. "Stiles? Can we have a little talk?" 

Shit, the house, the phone call--he looks down at Derek and Cora, sees them waking up, Cora's grumpy little face as she wipes sleep out of her eyes. They're far more with it than they were when he'd got home. 

"Stiles?" His dad repeats. 

"Uh, yeah. Yeah." He can't see his shirt anywhere, but he can see Derek's, so he swipes it untangles himself from the Hale pile with as much dignity as he can manage. 

His dad leads him down the hall and into his office. Derek's shirt is hanging off him, but it kinda smells like him; it's nice to have the scent of Derek around him. 

Stiles doesn't know where this is going. It's not like he's a teenager that had just been found with two older people in his bed. Maybe his dad just wants to know why they were all asleep together in the first place. 

"How are they?" 

Stiles blinks. Blinks again. That's not what he was expecting. "Uh, fine, I think they went back to see the house." He and his dad haven't really spoken about them since he turned up with Cora and Derek Hale, but he knows his dad remembered enough, and wouldn't be surprised if he'd gone back to read the old case file. 

His dad nods. "Bad business, the fire. Beacon Hills lost a lot of good people that day. Their parents were good people." 

Stiles isn't old enough to really remember Talia and Charlie Hale, but he knows what he's read in the local paper archives over the last few days. "This is the first time they've been back."

"I don't blame them. They must love you a lot to come back to a place that holds such a bad memory." 

Stiles looks up sharply at his dad. "I..." He remembers the past week, the way Cora had smiled as she'd shown him her favorite tree, the way Derek had raced her to the top, scarily quickly and with no fear of falling-- kinda impressive and another thing he's filing under the 'something's up with Cora and Derek Hale'. "I don't think all their memories of here are bad."

"I suppose they're not." 

They lapse into silence. 

"They seem like good people, a little weird, but then, so are you." 

"You wound me." Stiles clutches his chest as if he's been shot. 

"You know there's almost nothing you could do that would make me not love you, right? You're my son, my only son." 

"Dad..." Stiles ducks his head. What's brought this on? Conversations like this always end in something uncomfortable. 

"I'd say you're trying to hide your relationship with Derek behind Cora, but you're obviously seeing her, so I'm just telling you that I don't mind. If it's either, or... both."

"Dad, no! Derek and I used to mess around." It kinda hurts just to call it that. "...that's probably all you're picking up on. But we haven't, we don't, not any more, not since Cora."

"And does Cora know that?" There's a hard edge to his dad's voice, because his dad isn't going to let him get away with shit, especially not hurting other people. His dad's job is literally to protect people, and he doesn't do it for the excellent salary and benefits. 

Stiles nods. "She knows. It was over with Derek a long time before me and Cora got together."

His dad wipes a hand over his own face and lets out a sigh. "I'd tell you to be careful, but something tells me it's already too late. You never make it easy, do you kid?"

"It's fine, dad. I promise. Me and Cora are me and Cora, and me and Derek, we're...we're like brothers." That's the line, and if he says it enough times, it'll be true. Because he and Scott? That's what brothers are like. What's between him and Derek is something...really hard to define. It's like a relationship, without the fucking, but way too intimate to be brothers. Fuck. 

Hid dad doesn't look convinced, Stiles can hardly blame him, but he needs him to believe. 

"I promise. It's fine. I've got it all under control." 

*

Scott and Allison are living in Melissa's house, which is fine, as it turns out, because she's started spending a whole lot of time at his house. It's gross, thinking about the parents boning, but it's kinda cute and just...everything falling into place. 

A little part of him envies Scott, because Scott has a plan. Scott's gonna finish veterinary school, then work with Deaton, and maybe one day start a place of his own up. He's going to marry Allison. They're gonna have a couple of cute kids, and maybe eventually get their own place. (But it's not like Melissa's doesn't have the room.)

Stiles has no idea what he's going to do with his life. In two more year, he's going to have a degree in journalism, and part of him had always thought about running around the world chasing stories. He doesn't want to be the guy who gets a degree in journalism and moves back home to his small town, only to write about cats stuck up trees and the newest minor political scandal--who Mayor Martin forgets to invite to his ball this year. 

He wants to go everywhere, to see the world, but he wants to make a life for himself with his family back in Beacon Hills. Maybe it hurt too much, and Cora will never want to move back here. Maybe Derek won't and that will stop his plans. He can't imagine Derek and Cora ever living too far away from each other. 

Whatever happened to cause tension between Derek and Cora seems to have slowly ebbed away. He'd put money on it being related to the fire, but if it is gone, then he's happy and he isn't gonna ask about it. He's glad they're moving on, because family is important, especially when yours is so small. 

"You really didn't need to bring wine. I'm not even sure Scott drinks wine." Stiles jumps out of the Jeep.

Derek climbs out after him. "Scott doesn't, but Allison might." 

"Besides, he picked it specially so it'd go with the meal. You know me and you are uncultured swines." Cora closes the Jeep door with a satisfying bang. 

Derek groans. "I only said it the once!" 

Cora laughs. "It was pretty memorable."

"You were trying to cut cheese with the butter knife!" 

"I didn't know it was a butter knife! Who even has butter knives?!" Stiles rings the doorbell. 

"We do!" 

"Well, I won't do it again. It wasn't any good for cutting cheese, anyway." Stiles smirks as Derek glares at him, and Cora's laugh echoes down the street. 

The door swings open just as Derek crosses his arms and 'hmphs'. 

"Hey!" Scott opens the door, and drags Stiles into a bone-crushing hug. "You made it!" 

"Duh, it's not like I've forgotten where you live just because I've been in New York a couple of years." 

Allison's standing behind Scott and he still can't figure out how Scott got someone as awesome and beautiful as Allison to agree to date him. Hey, who is he kidding? Scott is freaking awesome; he can't believe it took so many years for someone else to notice. 

"Allison! Congratulations!" Stiles grabs her up and spins her. She may be stronger than him, but she's light enough that he can (just) pick her up. 

"Stiles! Put me down!" 

"Haha, never!" He carefully puts her back on two feet and drops a kiss on her cheek. "Seriously, well done, and hey, another person looking out for my dad." 

She shoves playfully at his shoulder. "Your dad is fully capable of looking after himself, and I don't get to see him so much. I'm pretty much the most junior officer in the place, and he's the most senior." 

"Criminals won't stand a chance against you."

"I don't know, around here it's more like speed tickets than hardened criminals." 

Allison accepts the wine, even though it turns out there's no corkscrew in the entire house and they have to use a screwdriver to get into the bottle. Derek frowns every time they try and pour it, and flicks a few pieces of cork out of his glass. 

Derek and Allison get on creepily well. As it turns out, Allison's really into cooking as well, and not the 'I'm going to bake you muffins' type of cooking, no, instead it's the weird, 'I'm going to use these sharp knives and cut that meat up beautifully' type. 

The McCalls have a nice set of patio chairs out back, so afterward they take their beers and desserts there and chill out. 

Allison's showing Cora and Derek her (kinda scary) attempts at wood carving down at the end of the garden. It's her way of channeling her love of weaponry into more constructive forms. Stiles isn't convinced. There's a mushroom that looks like one, and some mangled objects he thinks might have been attempts at dolphins. Maybe. 

Scott comes out of the house and hands him a piece of flan and some Jack, before dropping down onto the chair next to him. 

"I need you to know that what I'm about to say, I say as your bro, who loves you very much, but who also knows you can be a thoughtless dick sometimes." 

Stiles turns to face Scott. They're both reclining in their lawn chairs, beers littering the table between them. This doesn't sound good. "What?" Stiles asks, warily. 

The slosh of a full bottle of Jack is one of life's simple pleasures. Scott takes a sip before he speaks. "You can't...you shouldn't lead them on, man, it's not fair. I know you do shit without realizing, but, you've brought them home. That's a pretty big step, and--" 

Oh god, not this _again_. "Derek?"

Scott nods. 

"It's cool, we used to, but, he's okay with it." Stiles waves him off, makes a grab for the Jack. 

Scott stares down the garden, and Stiles follows his gaze. Allison is giving a demonstration of her whittling skills. "It doesn't look like it's over, Stiles, you keep--touching him, and--"

He's being so fucking careful with Derek, careful to make sure his touches are just friendly, that they aren't intrusive and unwanted. "Jesus christ can people please stop saying that! First your mom mistakes him for my boyfriend, then my dad tells me he's okay if I'm dating Derek, and now you're telling me not to lead him on! Derek is a big boy, a big boy that I'm not dating--"

Scott holds up his hands, placatingly. "Whoa, Stiles! I didn't want to argue! I just--sometimes you get a little...carried away, caught up, and you need someone to call you on your shit."

He sighs, puts his beer on the table, and rubs a hand over his face. "I've got someone."

"Yeah? Who? Because it's not Cora. Honest to god, man, I legitimately fear if you two ever have children. They'd be worse than we were."

Derek laughs as Cora tries to carve a bit of wood and fails. She glares at Derek and chucks the wood at him. 

"Stiles?" Scott prompts, and he realizes that he hasn't answered Scott's question. 

"Sorry man, I just-- they're important to me." 

Scott nods and Stiles thinks Scott gets it. He was there on the end of the line when the thing with Marcus ended in a shitstorm. Scott spent weeks on Skype watching shit movies and talking about nothing, because Stiles was hurting and Scott was his best and only friend. 

"You're the person who calls me on my shit, which I guess is what you're doing now. I've been trying to keep it friendly between me and Derek." 

"If there's not a chance, let him know. It's not fair to keep him hanging."

"What? No, you don't...don't worry about that. He's already let me know, in no uncertain terms, that he can't do relationships, and that I'd be perfect for Cora. I don't want him to think I want anything more, because if I do, I'm worried he'll push me away again. He really wants it to work between me and her."

Scott frowns. "That's not what I saw, Stiles. He's just as bad as you are about it. I kinda thought you two were fucking. But I know you're pretty tight with Cora...?" 

Stiles sighs and flops back onto the lounge chair, throwing an arm over his face dramatically. He's like a heroine in a stupid teen romance book. God. "That's the problem! We are! Like, we work, we goof off together, we have like, all the same hobbies. When she's happy, I'm happy, when she's sad, I'd do anything to fix it. She's got a wicked sense of humor and she's fucking fantastic in bed."

"But you still love Derek?" Scott says slowly, like he's finally grasping the whole of the situation. 

Stiles shrugs. "I don't know man. I just--I don't want to lose anyone. They're too important for me to fuck this up. If it's just my dick that's got a problem. I can keep it under control."

"But it's not just your dick, is it? You're in love with him, Stiles, and it looks like he loves you back. It's like you and Derek are in a relationship, but you're both refusing to acknowledge it. Even if you're not acting on it, don't you feel like you're cheating on Cora?" There's no judgment in Scott's voice, just honest curiosity. 

It's a thought he's had before, far too many times. Curled up next to Derek on the sofa, waiting for Cora to get home, but hearing the words from Scott's makes it even more real. "I really love them. Both."

"You just gotta figure out what's right for you, because I'm not sure trying to pretend you're not in love with Derek, too, is the best option. But when you're in love with someone, and they love you back? You don't just throw that away." Scott's focused on Allison and his face gets that stupid loved up look that Stiles spent months mocking him for. 

Stiles laughs. "I miss you, man."

"I'm only a Skype call away."

Stiles thinks of late nights, of drunken consolation and TV watching. "I know, but it's not the same."

They both watch the three people at the end of the garden, the people that have managed to make space for themselves in the world that was inhabited by only the two of them for so long. 

"Do you think you'll ever come back here?" Scott asks, as Derek holds up his piece of wood for Allison to inspect. 

"To Beacon Hills? I guess it depends what Cora and Derek want." 

There's a telling silence from Scott. 

"Fuck, I know, Scott, okay? Even when I plan the future, I can't do it without thinking about both of them. Cora's nearly everything Derek's got, and I don't..."

"I get it, man. They're important to you."

"Yeah."

They sit in silence, passing the bottle of Jack between them, and staring up at the night sky.


	4. Chapter 4

Their flight's in the morning, but Stiles can't bring himself to leave the porch. It's been an amazing two weeks. He's seen everyone getting on with their lives, finding love. His dad has Melissa, Scott has Allison. They're planning their futures together, and what does Stiles have? 

Stiles has Cora...and Derek. He can't shake the thought that he's doing something wrong. The way he sees it, he's got two options: learn to treat Derek as a friend and not like a silent third-wheel in their relationship, or two, cut him out as much as he and Cora can, put distance between them and try to move on. 

Option one isn't really working. He spends too much time thinking about how he should treat Derek, and everything's either too casual or too awkward. It's not fair to him, and it's not fair to Cora. And option two? Option two isn't viable, he doesn't _want_ to have less Derek in his life, and he couldn't be the person that came between brother and sister. 

The back door opens and he looks up to see Cora. "There you are," she says, and gently closes the screen door. "We wondered where you went."

He pats the space next to him, and holds the porch swing still. This used to be his mom's favorite place to read of a night. His dad always used to say that she'd hurt hey eyes reading by the light pouring from the kitchen window, but she didn't care. 

They sit there in silence for a few moments, enjoying the night. "I forgot how peaceful it can be out here. New York is always so loud."

Stiles nods in agreement. "You can hear the sound of the wind in the trees, and sleep with your windows open without waking up to shouting and beeping." 

Cora nudges his arm, and he lifts it so she can curl into him. She fits so perfectly under his arm. They sit with just the sound of the garden, and the slight squeak of the swing as it rocks back and forth. 

"What's wrong? Something's bothering you." 

He squeezes her shoulder, pulls her closer. "It's nothing." There's got to be another solution, another way to make this work, because he's not losing her. 

"Don't do that, Stiles. It's obviously not nothing. It's enough that you're not here inside on your last night with your dad, instead you're brooding out here."

"I'm not deep enough to brood."

She sighs. "Stiles..." 

The thing is, relationships aren't about secrets and dealing with shit by yourself, being home has reminded him of that. "I love you."

"Why am I sensing a 'but'?"

He drops a kiss onto the top of her head; her hair's silky and warm, and smells like his shampoo and her hair product. "There's no but, it's just, sometimes I feel... " Now or never, Stiles. "I feel like I'm cheating on you."

"Derek," Cora says, and it's not a question. 

"Of course you know. I thought I was being subtle. I just...I think I still love Derek. I try so hard not to, but part of me will always love him, and it feels wrong to you, and I know he doesn't want me--" He breaks off, takes a breath, because now he's started the words won't stop. "I don't know what to do. You're important to me. I don't want to let you go, but...the way I feel about you, I feel the same about Derek, and I see him, and I _miss him_ , Cora, even though he's right there. I miss not having to think about every action around him. I miss holding him, and--" 

"Stiles, breath." It's easier when he's not looking at Cora, because he thinks if he does he'll be lost all over again. Her thumbs are rubbing circles on his hips, and it's calming him. 

"I don't know what to do," he confesses, holding on to her all that more tightly. 

"I don't--we don't talk about the past with you a lot. It's not intentional, it's just...when you came into our lives things were still pretty raw. You know me and Derek grew up here together, yeah?" 

"Yes..." Where's Cora going with this?

"But we didn't--when the house burned down, I was just outside. I'd gone out to look at the moon because it was so big, and so bright. When the fire started, I couldn't get in, I couldn't help anyone, and I didn't--mom told me to run so I did."

Stiles draws Cora closer to him, wrapping himself around her. "You don't have to tell me this Cora, I don't need to--"

"No, you need to know, Stiles. It might help you understand."

"I--you don't have to do this for me."

"Shut up, and let me tell it."

"I didn't stop running, Stiles. For seven years, I thought the people who'd done it were going to come after me, and I thought everyone was dead. I didn't know Laura and Derek had survived, and they didn't know I had. I spent time in foster homes, and then--I was eighteen and living in New Orleans when a--kinda friend of the family tells me Derek and Laura are alive and living in New York." 

His heart hurts, because all he can think of is a scared Cora running from everyone for half her life, and all of that still managed to produce his Cora, who can laugh, and smile, that plays games and...fuck. He'd never realized. 

"I was so angry. They were alive and _together_ , and there I was alone and on the run. It was Derek's girlfriend that burned our house down, and there he is playing house with what's left of _my_ family." 

Stiles knows some of this at least. "Derek blames himself for the fire." 

Cora nods. He's known that since he gave a beaten up Derek a ride, but the part about Cora he didn't know. It adds another whole dimension to their relationship. 

"We were--it wasn't like it used to be. Laura got this apartment for us so we could all have space and be together. But it didn't work. Derek wasn't the brother I remembered. He was so _quiet_ , and I was so angry at him--angry for Kate, angry for getting to keep Laura, angry for not being himself."

"I can't imagine what Derek was like, before the fire." There aren't any pictures, but Stiles bets he was a geek, bets it took him years to grow into his ears. 

"He was--he was so sweet. Sometimes I think the fire took more than just the people that died. You would have run all over him. If he'd met you then he would have done adorable shit like bring you flowers, and plan the rest of your lives together. Derek was a total sap, guess it made him an easily target." 

Stiles shudders, thinking of a young Derek and someone taking advantage of him. 

"I think Laura took the contract in England to make us bond, give us time to get to know each other again. I'd been here a year and didn't exactly have any friends, and Derek wasn't much better. Except her plan fell flat on it's face, because--"

_A year ago, what happened—oh._ "Me."

"Yeah, you. Derek brought you home and you were...you made us work together. Derek stopped avoiding the house, and I started talking to him, because you were there, and you didn't--you were easy to talk to. I think maybe that's when I started forgiving him."

"No one could ever be harder on Derek than Derek." He's thought it before, but now he can really see it, can see how everything Derek didpushing Stiles away, trying to give Cora everything he thinks she deserves--how it all makes sense. 

"Exactly." She draws her knees up, and buries her face against his chest. "Derek thinks it was his fault that I was split after the fire, and maybe I let him think he owed me something, because I was so angry about it, angry that he was stupid, but also that he still got to keep Laura. He got to stay with our...our older sister. Loving you was easy, and loving you hurt Derek. I'm not proud but...it's so far beyond that now."

Communication is important, he knows it, and he and Cora talk endlessly, but he's only really beginning to see how little they communicate. Maybe he should try it more. 

"What makes a relationship?" 

Stiles frowns. "I don't...is this a trick question?" 

"No, doofus." She pokes him in the ribs. "It was going to be a poetic way for me to show you that you're basically in a relationship with Derek right now. All you don't do is fuck, at least, not anymore." 

"Derek doesn't want a relationship with me. Even if I was going to leave you." He huffs a sigh. 

"You're worse than me! I'm trying to tell you that he's wrong. Derek's damaged and broken, but so was I and look at us now. He's not past fixing any more than I was. Before the fire I shared our family with Derek, and after, when I joined up with them, I shared Laura with him too."

Stiles doesn't...this isn't how this was supposed to go. It was supposed to be horrible and miserable. Cora was going to shout, or be sad and disappointed, and he was going to lose them both. 

"Do you love me?" She asks, voice soft. 

He looks down at her, and finds Cora looking up at him. He smiles and cups her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Of course."

"And does how you feel about Derek have any affect on that? Do you love your dad more than Scott? Just because you love one doesn't mean you can't love the other, right?" Cora's got a core of steel, he knew it before, but now he knows her life now, what happened to her, it just confirms it. 

"I don't-- " 

"I know that you love one, so why can't you love two?" Cora grins up at him, an expectant grin on her face. There's something off about the words, something that sounds like Cora's quoting something instead of speaking her own words. 

He cocks his head. "Are you quoting Morrissey at me?"

She shakes with laughter in the circle of his arms. "No, The Long Blondes!"

"You know I never got into them."

"You should have. They were awesome." 

They fall into silence, the only sound the muffled voices from the TV in the living room. He can't even imagine how it would work with the three of them. How would he know who to spend time with? What happened if he ever had to pick? "But wouldn't it be...weird? You can't have two partners, that's just...that's not how it works."

"You don't have to, Stiles. You don't have to have either of us. But you loving and wanting Derek isn't a problem with me, and it doesn't mean you can't be with me. Unless--" she pauses, brow wrinkling in concern. "Unless that wasn't what you were trying to say, and you were just trying to let me down--"

"No! No! I love you, Coradora." He says it with vehemence, because he really means it. "You know that, right?" 

"I--Me too. Love you, that is. I love you." She laughs. "Way to mess that up, self. You don't need to make any decisions now. Come inside. Your dad's already started to wonder where you are." She rises to her feet way more gracefully than he could ever manage. 

He strains his ears, trying to pick up a hint of a conversation inside. He can't. He can barely hear the TV. "You can hear that, huh?" 

She rolls her eyes. "It's just a really good guess."

She gets up and holds a hand out to him, and together they head back inside. 

Dad and Derek are in the living room, arguing over which shrubs to put out front. There's no real heat to it, and Stiles didn't think anyone could have so many opinions about Rhododendrons. When Stiles catches Derek's eyes, his expression is guarded, wary. Stiles gives him what he thinks is a reassuring smile, or at least, the best he can do. 

He needs to think about this some more. Is it worth risking what they've got? Can he really go on like this much longer before he fucks something up, or someone has enough? 

He takes his bed that night, with Cora and Derek curled in the guest room. It's only been two weeks but already his sheets smell like Derek again, and Stiles isn't surprised how much he'd missed falling asleep in a place that smells like him. 

*

Laura's not there when they get back to the apartment. Apparently one of her clients go arrested and she had to split. 

"What does she even lawyer?" Stiles asks as Derek flicks through the mail. 

Derek shrugs. "Corporate law at Pearson Specter. They've got her working in the London office, trying to get things set up over there."

"Oh, is she going to stay in England?" Stiles opens the fridge looking for a snack. They really need to go shopping. 

"I...don't think so. She always talks about coming back here, heckles us into keeping her room clean." 

He doesn't hear Cora sneak up behind him, but jumps when she pinches his ass. "Hey!" 

She peers past him into the fridge. "We should order take out." 

Typical Cora. "Or go shopping." 

"Or that, but take out is way less effort, and I've got a shift tonight."

Stiles didn't realize that, he should have remembered. "Oh, I guess I'll head back to mine then. I should probably check Chuck hasn't sold all my shit on ebay."

"Don't be silly, you can stay in the apartment without me here, you'll have Derek for company."

Derek's still going through the mail, splitting bills from trash. He's not...he's not ready to be alone with Derek yet. He just needs some more time to think about things, get his head straight. "No it's fine--"

"Derek, shouldn't Stiles totally stay here while I'm at work?"

Derek looks up from a bill, frowns at Cora. "Stiles can do what he wants."

"But you wouldn't mind if he stayed, right?" Cora's voice is getting higher and more insistent. 

"Of course not, I'm just going to read or watch some TV. Stiles knows he's welcome to join me." 

"See, Derek totally wants to join you," Cora's words are slow and pointed, and Stiles is totally avoiding this conversation.

"Cora..." Stiles pleads. 

"Stiles, this is good. It'll be fine." She slips a hand into his, squeezes tight. "You can do this."

Derek sets the last of the mail down and frowns up at them. "He can 'do this'? Cora, what are you talking about? Stiles has watched TV before." 

"Nothing, nothing," Cora insists, spinning around so her back's to Derek. 'Do it,' she mouths at him where Derek's can't see. 'Do it'. "I'm going to get ready for work," she says out loud. "And order some take out." 

*

Stiles turns off the TV. He's been mindlessly watching it since Cora went to work while Derek stayed in him room and read, or something. Maybe...he should at least talk to Derek. It doesn't have to be about this it just... talking to Derek about things is good, and a thing he's going to try and do more. Things that matter, not just what's for dinner and who did the laundry last. 

Derek's in his room, curled up like he usually is, in a t-shirt, that, oh, that's one of his. He wondered where he'd left it. He knocks on the open door and leans against it. The door frame is hard on his shoulder. 

"Hey, Stiles." Derek pauses the show he's watching on his laptop and sits up. "What's up?"

He sits on the side of the bed, careful to leave space between them. Derek's screen is paused on Ron Swanson's angry face. 

"You caught up yet?" 

Derek shakes his head. "Half a season left to go."

"Don't waste it. It's one of the best." 

Stiles has had some of the best times in this room with Derek, quiet moments where they just existed together, fun moments where they goofed around, watched shit on Derek's laptop. Stupid moments, too, like the time Stiles was so enthusiastically fucking Derek that he fell off the bed and nearly smashed his head on the bedside cabinet. 

He feels out of place. The sheets are soft underneath his fingers, and he runs his hands over them. Derek's room is so different than the image he likes to present. There aren't any throw pillows but the room is soft, and everything in it well worn, like Derek's had them for years. His clothes are the either cheap, old and worn, or both. 

"I--"  
"Don't--"

Figures they both try to speak at the same moment. 

"You go," Stiles says.

"No you." 

He's going to do this, he doesn't want to not be able to curl up in this bed, to hold Derek when he's had a bad day, to chat complete and utter shit with him. "Fine, I'll just--do you remember what it was like, when we were together?" 

"Stiles," Derek starts. "Don't do this." There are dark circles under Derek's eyes, and he looks so worn out, Stiles wants to push him back, tell him to get some sleep...hold him while he does.

"But... it's just, this is like we were, but without the sex, and with a lot more second-guessing."

"No it's not, I'm not--in a relationship with you." Why is Derek always so stubborn? 

He's not going to get angry, because he's accepted that Derek's biggest enemy is Derek. "Yeah you are, a friendship is a relationship."

Derek rolls his eyes. "You know that's not what I meant. I don't want to do this, Stiles. You're with Cora, and you two are happy. It's good; I'm happy for you." 

"Yeah?" Stiles raises an eyebrow. "So you're happy we're happy and everyone's happy? Then how come you look like you haven't been sleeping, huh, big guy?"

He reaches over and cups Derek's face, rubs a thumb over the dark smudges beneath Derek's eyes. For a moment, Derek almost leans into the touch, but no, he pulls away. "I'm fine." 

Stiles pulls his hand away and lets it rest in the space between them. "I spoke to Cora and she--she said she was okay with it...if me and you, y'know, as well as me and her."

Derek signs. "We've been over this before. I'm no good for a long-term relationship--as someone's boyfriend."

"I get it, I just, it'd be the same as now, but, sex, and I wouldn't have to keep pretending I don't feel all these feelings."

Derek's quiet for a moment. Stiles thinks he's not going to take the bait, and then, "What feelings?"

Stiles shrugs, as nonchalant as he can manage. This is one thing he's really accepted about this relationship, this situation. "The ones where it feels like if I don't let you know I love you it's going to burn a hole through me; the kind where I want to be the person you come to when you're upset, when you're angry. I want to be the person you tell about your day. I want to make pasta and go to see stupid drama club performances and attend dinner parties with Scott and Allison, get drunk and make a total scene, I want to--I just want to be with you."

It's a relief to get the words out, but he braces for Derek's reaction. It can't be position, because Derek is stubborn and stupid and--

"Like you are with Cora?"

Stiles nods and looks Derek in the eye, because Derek's _looking_ at him, not engaging in avoidance mode, which is entirely unexpected. What the hell? "Exactly."

"Who you didn't want to date, or take things further with because sex messes up friendships?" There's that hint of disbelief he was expecting. Derek isn't good at growing, at moving on, but Stiles is learning you've got to be. No one stays still. If you do you, might as well be dead. He's willing to admit he's wrong if it helps make his life better. 

"Exactly, and I was stupid, and lonely, and wrong. Admitting how we feel about each other, showing it through sex, it made our relationship better, stronger. Now when I think about the future, Cora's in it, but here's the thing, so are you. You're in my plans. You're in my day to day considerations. Don't tell me it's not the same for you."

"I care about you, Stiles, but _as a friend_."

Stiles has a plan, and the plan is get Derek to acknowledge they have feelings for each other, but the sincerity behind Derek's words make him pause. Is he a dick if he pushes this? Does this make him one of those guys? What if he's supposed to push it because Derek is doing this to punish himself? One more time, he'll try one more, and if Derek says no he'll drop it and try to move on, but... it's been a long time, and it feels like Derek's resistance to being happy is thinning. "I care about you as more than that, and I think you care about me more than that as well." 

Derek sighs, slumps in on himself a little. "I just...I don't...I want Cora to have everything she wants. I want you both to have a nice, normal life."

"Yeah? Well she wants the same. She wants all of us happy and this? This would make me happy, and it would make you happy, and I'm pretty sure those two things are big to Cora's happiness, too." 

"It's not normal."

"Yeah? Well who gives a fuck about normal? None of us are normal, and that's fine, that's great. Normal's boring."

Derek sighs again, doesn't say anything. 

Stiles reaches over and covers Derek's hand with his own. "No more arguments, huh?"

"Someone's going to get hurt," Derek's resigned, like he's already given into this, like he knows it's a bad idea but he wants it so badly he's willing to take the risk. Because the chance of not being alone is better than the crushing loneliness of being the third wheel in a relationship, of watching everyone close to you find love and settle down. 

"Do you trust me? Because I won't let us. I'll do everything in my power to make sure we only change this to make things better between us." Stiles leans right into Derek's space, close enough that it's clear where he's heading with this. 

"This is a terrible idea," Derek whispers against his lips.

Stiles rolls his eyes. "You're being melodramatic," he responds, before closing the space between and kissing him. 

Kissing Derek is like coming home. The laptop falls to the side as Derek pulls him forward, fisting his hands in the front of his t-shirt. Stiles doesn't push further, doesn't go straight for the dick, because that's not all this is about and he wants to prove to himself that's not all this is about. 

"I've missed you," Derek murmurs against his lips. 

"You--yeah, me too."

They curl up together on the bed, Derek's head on Stiles' chest as the episode of _Parks and Rec_ plays out. Derek's out like a light before the end of it, and Stiles isn't far behind him.

When he walks out of Derek's room in the morning, sleep-rumpled but like a weight has been lifted, Cora greets him with a grin, a kiss, and a cup of coffee. When Derek joins them a little later, Stiles welcomes him the exact same way. 

*

You know when you're asleep, and you're so tired you're in a dream within a dream? You dream you wake up and you're walking around and everything feels real, and you're convinced that it's real. Then you wake up, and the world is so much more real? That's what it's like after things change between the three of them. 

Before, they fit together; they all had bits that they didn't want to talk about little insecurities and worries about their actions that made them hold back from saying everything, from sharing everything. Before it was just potential. Even though he was their friend, he always kept some things close to his chest. 

Only his dad and Scott got to see behind the sarcasm and endless stream of words, but now he makes a conscious effort to let Cora and Derek in. They're trusting him not to fuck up these relationships, so he figures he can trust them with the ugly bits of him that he keeps hidden, and the little bits of dreams and plans that always sound stupid when he tries to share, so he keeps them buried inside. 

His plans had always had a vague Cora and Derek shaped space in them, but now he full on plans around them. He badgers Derek to do something besides working at the meat packers and gets him to begrudgingly start a food blog. He looks up local papers in New York, and in Beacon Hills, just in case. He's got two years left, but he wants to be ready for whatever Cora and Derek want to do. 

"One day I want to get out of the city, head somewhere like Beacon Hills," he whispers to Cora, post-fuck, pre-sleep. It's too hot to have covers on, so they're lying naked on the bed, facing each other. The summer's in full swing and fuck this heat. 

"I want a porch swing, like your moms," she says. "I want to have kids, little versions of us running around and driving Derek nuts." 

He can see them now, Uncle Derek surrounded by hyperactive little shits. "I'd give good money to see that."

She smiles, the little smile that he's sure is saved just for him. "You probably will, kids are expensive."

"That's okay, Derek's going to support us all with his restaurant and cable TV show." 

Cora cocks her head, far too much like a confused puppy. "You're not joking."

"Well, not entirely. He's going to be big, one day. How could anyone not love him? He cares about what he does, and that's hot." 

She wrinkles her nose. "Don't talk about Derek like that when I'm naked." 

"But I love you both naked." 

"Stiles," Cora whines, butting her head into his shoulder. 

He laughs, as quiet as he can because it's late. It's late and it's too hot to sleep, and he's too tired to fuck again, so they keep talking and talking and talking, until the sky lightens and the traffic starts again. One day they'll have their trees. 

*

"So I googled it," Stiles says, after _The Mentalist_ , because they're all in the living room, and Patrick Jayne just walked away smiling, so it's probably the best time to bring it up.

Cora's sitting on a cushion on the floor, back resting against Stiles' knees, and instead of turning she cranes her neck up to look at him. "Googled what?"

Derek flicks the TV to mute, because he never gives up the remote control and hates the ads anyway.

"This, us." Stiles gestures between the three of them; he thinks it's clear enough.

"Oh." Cora's face scrunches up in confusion. "Why would you do that?"

"Do you know many times I tried to google 'what to do when you're attracted to your girlfriend's brother you used to kind of date but now you're just friends'?"

There's a joint snort from Cora and Derek at that, and he tries not to laugh, because sometimes they're so alike that it makes him wonder about his sanity.

"Google helps me in all my life endeavours." He thinks about those empty results for what to do about his previous situation. 'What do I do if I love my girlfriend but I think I love her brother too' hadn't really got him any useful results. "Well, most of them. Whatever, point is that there are like, things we should be doing, to make sure this relationship works well."

"Stiles..." Derek says, hesitantly. "Do we really need to follow other people's advice? We got this far on our own, maybe--"

"No, no, it's good advice, like, it makes _sense_ when you think about it. I ended up on this whole forum about why poly relationships fail, and so..." Stiles shifts around, lifting his hips until he can get the piece of paper out of his jean pockets. "Aha!"

He'd spent a couple of hours drawing up the schedule, it's nothing too complicated--it just picks a day a week for each of their relationships to give everyone a chance for dedicated time together.

"I made us a schedule. It's nothing crazy; it's not like I'm planning every second of our day, but I thought-- Hey!"

Cora's snatches the piece of paper out of his hand and Derek leans over to get a better look. Stiles flails a little bit, he was going to...there was a whole explanation, about days and stuff.

"What's _Sterek night_?" Derek asks with a frown.

"Duh, me and you, Stiles and Derek," Stiles explains defensively. "And Stora is me and Cora."

"Stora sucks as a name," Cora bitches, shoving the piece of paper back up at him.

"It's a work in process, and I still haven't got a name for _Hale Family Bonding_ , which kinda doesn't include Laura, so the title doesn't really work." Stiles examines the piece of paper and sighs. He had plans, y'know, and the internet said this was a good idea.

"We can do whatever, Stiles," Cora says, squeezing his ankle. "Isn't that right, Derek?"

"I don't need you guys patronizing me." He smooths the crumpled edges of the schedule.

Derek nudges him. Stiles turns and sees him peering at the schedule. "Does that mean tomorrow's our night?"

The corners of his mouth turn up at the interest in Derek's voice. "Yeah, yeah it is."

"What are we supposed to do?" Derek asks, wrapping an arm around Stiles' waist and drawing him closer. It's nice, to be held by Derek and not have to worry about anything, to be able to lean into him, to be able to touch back.

"We can do anything, sit around, watch TV, go out for to dinner or... anything." Stiles shrugs and looks down at Cora, who's resting her head against his knee. "Google said you shouldn't be around, Cora, and Derek shouldn't when it's our night, and I shouldn't when it's your night together."

"Your night with Derek is when I've got my late lecture."

Stiles nods. "And your time with Derek is when I'm taking new stock for the bookstore. I thought it'd be easier that way, if it's okay with you guys."

"You've really thought about it." Derek shifts so he's even closer to Stiles. "What do you want to do tomorrow?"

"I... we've never been on a date." Stiles hesitates. It's not that he wants to go on a date, it's just he's never been outside where people could see them, together. He's not insecure, it's just... fuck, okay maybe the tiniest bit insecure.

"I don't exactly have the best track record with dating..."

Stiles' heart sinks. "It's okay, I didn't--"

The warm hand curled around his hip squeezes reassuringly. "Let me finish. I don't have the best track record, but you seem to like all the other parts of me that I fail at, so we can try, we can definitely try."

"You don't have to..." Stiles doesn't want Derek doing it just because he wants to, not if it makes him uncomfortable.

"I want to if you want to. I want to go and..." Derek's forehead creases in a frown. "I have no idea what people actually do on dates."

Cora laughs at that, hitting her brother on the knee. "Derek, everyone has at least some idea what to do on a date," she says haughtily.

"Yeah? What're you gonna do on your date night?"

She scowls over at him, clearly stuck for an idea. "Things."

"Yeah? What kind of things?" Derek parrots the word at her.

Before Stiles can even blink Cora's up on top of Derek, trying to stuff his face into the sofa cushions. "Date things that will totally be better than your date things!"

Derek laughs as Cora tries to make him admit her date ideas are better, even though neither of them are actually listing any events, and it's nice, it's really nice. There's an ease between Cora and Derek that he hasn't seen before. They're joking around and playfully fighting, but there's a much more friendly edge to it, something he hadn't realized was missing before.

"Admit I win at dating!" Cora calls, trying to tickle Derek's abdomen.

"Never!" Derek says, voice muffled by the cushion he's almost eating, his abs tensing as Cora tickles him.

"Derek!" she whines, fingers digging in.

"Never!" Derek repeats through a laugh. "Never...."

*

They play at being tourists in their own city. Derek's never done any of the really touristy things, not like Stiles did when he first arrived. So they rent a couple of bikes and start cycling around Central Park, Derek knows this part better than Stiles ever could. Horrifically all Stiles can identify are the places he's fucked random guys, places he's thrown up, and the one patch of grass where he played ultimate frisbee on a summer afternoon.

"How do you not spend more time in here?" Derek asks, as they settle on some rocks right at the end of the lake. He starts picking through the pebbles, looking for something.

Stiles sits down and draws his knees up; the rocks are still warm from the heat of the day. He shrugs. "I see enough nature back home."

"But don't you miss it? It's why I spend so much time here." Derek skims one of the pebbles over the lake and Stiles is suitably impressed.

"Sure I miss it, but there are so many other things to look at, nature's always going to be there." Stiles watches another stone skip four, five, six times before dropping into the water; he wishes he could do that.

"So's the city. Nothing ever stops in New York."

Stiles can't argue, so he draws himself up and walks over to where Derek is searching for stones again. "I always sucked at this, Scott is way better than me."

"I can show you," Derek offers, pushing some pebbles in his hand.

He tries, he does, and even gets a skip or two of the stones--nothing like Scott, nothing like Derek.

It gets dark, so they head back. Cora's done with her lecture but still not home, at a guess Stiles would say she's giving them space. She doesn't have to, but it's nice, having the apartment without Cora, because he's sure what he's about to do... even though he's done it so many times with her in the apartment, he'd still be too distracted to get into it, knowing his girlfriend was only a wall away.

Stiles kisses Derek as soon as their shoes are off, and Derek grins into the kiss, too happy to kiss properly. Stiles drags them back to Derek's room, one kiss at a time.

"I think we should pretend this is our first time," Stiles says, between kisses. "Pretend you don't know what turns me on."

Derek's response is a snort of breath that Stiles feels rather than hears. "Why would I do that?"

"Because it'll be fun..." Stiles says, slipping his hands under Derek's shirt and pulling it up, Derek get the not-so-subtle hint and pulls it off, dropping it on their way to his room.

"How will not knowing how to have sex with you be fun?" Derek's lips move down to his neck, sucking a mark under the hinge of the jaw, in the perfect way to make Stiles' knees weak, his cock hard.

"Derek..." Stiles whines, clutching Derek tighter when he means to push him away. "I want to pretend. We just had our first date, and this could be our first time too."

Derek pulls back, to run a hand through Stiles' hair. "Is that what you really want?"

Stiles nods. "I just... I want a stupid romantic evening, a cute first time, I've never... I've never had that before. Everything's always been hurried and rushed, exciting and sexy, but never... never sweet and sickeningly cute." He looks away, he trusts Derek not to mock him for it, but it still feels like he's opening himself far too much here.

There's a chaste kiss on his lips, and Derek grasping his chin, turning so Stiles has to look him in the eye. "We can do that. I can do that. I've never... I've never done it like that either."

Derek takes his hand, leads him through to Derek's bedroom, where the bed is made, but the room still has the scatterings of Derek's life. His laptop is on his desk, open on his email, with a copy of _Vanity of Duluoz_ next to it, dog eared and worn, because it's Derek's favourite book.

It's a couple of seconds and Derek's unbuttoning his fly, slowly pushing his jeans over muscled thighs. Before Stiles can do the same, Derek's there, hands resting on the waistband of Stiles' jeans. "Can I?" He asks, and Stiles has never seen Derek so... intense, so gentle. Whatever he thought Derek was like before, even at his most open it was only an echo of now.

Wordlessly he nods, and Derek stops to his knees before Stiles, fingers quickly undoing Stiles' jeans and pushing them down only far enough to reveal the bulge of Stiles' cock. Yeah, his cock is so so so down with what's going on.

Derek presses a quick kiss to the line of his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers, before stroking it. Stiles groans and drops his hands to tangle in the bedsheets. "Derek..."

Fuck no! Derek pulls back. "Yes, Stiles?" he asks, voice light and teasing, like he isn't affected at all, like he isn't still holding Stiles' cock, idly petting it as he speaks.

"Oh my god, Derek! Just get back there," Stiles pleads. 

Derek snorts, but drops his head down to mouth at the length of Stiles' cock, nuzzling into the material that must drenched in the smell of him. He can't take his eyes off of Derek, the way his eyes have slipped closed as he wets Stiles' boxers. It gets Stiles hard, so fucking hard that he isn't surprised that when Derek pulls away for a second his cock is actually tenting his underwear. 

Before Stiles can ask for it, Derek's hooking his fingers in Stiles' waistband and lifting the sodden underwear over Stiles' cock watching as it springs free. 

His cock is flushed and so very hard, a bead of precome already sitting at the top. 

"Excited?" Derek asks, teasing grin firmly in place. 

Stiles playfully shoves at his shoulder, a hint of embarrassment of how into this he is. "Shut up, I'm just really into you, okay?" 

Derek's face does this thing, Stiles is expecting something light, something joking, but Derek just.. the look on his face is so serious, when he speaks his voice is a little reverent, "You don't know how... into you I am." 

Stiles reaches up, and cups Derek's head, fingers stroking over the soft hair at the nape of his neck. "If it's anything like how I feel about you, then yeah, I get it." He leans down for a kiss, tries to put everything he can't quite push himself to say, tries to show Derek how he feels about him. 

When they break apart, they're both panting a little, and Stiles' cock has left a smear of wetness over his abdomen, where he'd been leaning forward. 

Strong hands pull at his jeans, tugging them off with an urgency there hadn't been before. Stiles arches his hips to help, and tugging off his shirt because sitting there in just a shit feels weird. Derek pulls his own shirt quickly over his head, tossing it in a ball to the side, and wow, seeing overly-neat Derek do that just... yeah, Stiles' stomach tightens, Derek's into this, he's really into this. 

Derek settles back between his knees, resting his elbows over Stiles' thighs as he drops back to Stiles' dick. Derek's hot, wet mouth closing around the head of his dick is like relief, like scratching an itch, like-- fuck--Derek tightens his lips just under the ridge of the head and Stiles' hands fly to his head. "Fuck! Derek! I don't... take it slow, I want this to last." 

The lips ease, up, and go back to lighter, teasing touches, and yeah, yeah. Derek takes it slow, so slow, Stiles hadn't realised he was missing warm muscles and strong hands between his thighs. 

Derek's bathing Stiles' balls with attention when he feels the coiling in his gut that means he's close to close. "No more." Stiles pushes Derek away, lets himself fall back on the bed and take a few ragged breaths. He'd been close, way too close. 

Once he trusts himself to look up, he does, taking in the sight of Derek, stripping out of his jeans, one leg than the other, peeling that stupidly tight denim off of him. His cock is hard, it must have been killing him to keep in in there, Stiles half expects zipper marks on it. 

Scooting up the bed, he brings Derek over with a, “C'mere, I want to kiss you." 

Swollen red lips, that are salty sweet meet him, as Derek covers him on the bed, pinning him to the mattress. Derek fits so perfectly against him, slotting into each other in a lazy, comfortable way--a way that leaves everything good with just enough touch. His chest rubs against Derek's, his nipples hard, getting just enough attention to make him arch into it. He's angled his dick away, but Derek's is a hard, steady throb rubbing itself on Stiles' thigh. 

"I missed you so fucking much," Derek whispers when they break apart, and Stiles' heart aches for Derek, for them. 

"You don't have to miss me anymore," he says back in the same hushed tone. "I'm never letting you push me away again." 

Derek's lips on his are crushing, and Stiles uses the moment to raise his thigh up, wrap it around, and flip them over. The thing is, he knows there's no way he could ever move Derek, but then there's the little part of him that sings at the way Derek moves himself for Stiles, at the slightest urge. 

Being on top leaves Stiles free to slide down Derek's body, free to kiss his way down to Derek's chest, nuzzle a little against the hair there, feeling it rough and tickly on his cheek. Physically the Hales are insane. Naked they're the idealized images of their genders: Cora has soft skin, beautiful hair, a perfect handful of boob, and Derek is muscled, stubbled and has a jawline Stiles just wants to...bite. 

"Hey!" Derek grunts and pushes Stiles back down, away from his jaw. Stiles goes back down to one of Derek's small, hard nipples. There's barely enough to get his teeth around, but he scrapes them over it anyway, and grins at the way Derek's thighs tighten around his sides, the way he lets out a breathy whimper. 

Physically they might be perfect, but they're so much more than that. Stiles knows gendered thinking is bullshit--girls should be this, boys should be this--and he loves them for not being that. Cora is tough, aggressive, and playful in a way Derek could never be. Derek's far kinder, softer, more intense. Stiles knows he has to be a million times more careful with Derek than with Cora, because Cora can communicate, and Derek...Derek's not so good at that. 

He finally reaches Derek's groin, nuzzles into the pubic hair there, and lets himself enjoy Derek in every way he knows. 

"Stiles..." Derek calls, and it's like he's a million miles away. 

Stiles pulls back, but not far; he looks up the lean lines of Derek's body, where Derek's propped himself up on his elbows. Derek's cock is just a hair's breadth from his cheek, so he leans in and rubs gently against it. 

Derek hisses and reaches a hand down to card his fingers through Stiles' hair, probably making it stick up in every way. "I want..." 

He waits, he waits and doesn't touch Derek's cock. "You want...?" he prompts. 

"I want you to fuck me." Derek pauses, licks his lips. "But only if you--" 

"Of course I want to. Haven't fucked you in so long." Stiles rubs his hands through the fuzz on Derek's thighs, feels the muscles there jump under his touch. "Lube still--" 

"In the bedside drawer," Derek finishes. 

Stiles leans over Derek's thigh, reaches to the bedside drawer, and pulls out a mostly empty tube of lube and a string of condoms with only two left. It's...oddly how he remembers leaving them all those months ago. They're Stiles' favorites--actual on-brand, not the shitty ones you always find in club toilets, because that shit works, but these are thinner, better and--shit, these are probably the ones Stiles left here. Derek never shells out for the nicer condoms. 

He doesn't realize he's been staring at them until Derek sits up. Derek looks guilty, looks caught; he looks like everything's about to collapse. Stiles drops the condoms and lube on the bed and grabs Derek, pushes himself into Derek's space until they're as close as he can get them. Stiles is sitting on Derek's thighs, arms wrapped around Derek; it's a second and then Derek's arms are wrapping around him. 

"I love you, you know that, right?" Stiles says. Derek's cock is almost against his. He could just reach down, jack them off, and keep them like this, never having to separate. 

Derek nods and tries to lean in for a kiss, but Stiles pulls back a little. "No, say it, I need...I need you hear you say it." 

There's a moment where Derek hesitates and Stiles feels like a total dick, because he knows how much Derek loves him, and here he is pushing him to actually voice it. 

"I didn't...you don't have to. I just meant." Stiles stalls, letting out a frustrated noise. "I love you, you don't--" 

"I love you." Derek's voice cracks a little on the words. He looks like something terrible is about to happen. He's staring up at Stiles and waiting for him to crush him, crush all his hopes and dreams. 

What's he supposed to say? He can re-declare his love; he can drop straight on Derek's cock. "I'm not going anywhere," is what comes out of his mouth, without his brain even processing it. "I'm not going to hurt you, if I can avoid it. We'll probably argue, or disagree, but we won't...I'll do everything to never hurt you on purpose." 

Derek's quiet, not saying anything for a while, just sitting there with one of his stupidly big hands stroking up and down Stiles' back like _he's_ the one who needs comfort. Finally Derek says, "I don't deserve you." 

Stiles lets out a whine of protest. "You, Derek Hale, deserve everything good to happen to you. You've had a lifetime worth of shit. Let me give you something good; let me show you how good we can be." 

He pushes Derek back onto the bed with one last kiss, reaching out for the lube and slicking up a couple of fingers. If he was the last person to fuck Derek, which he's kind of thinking he might have been, then he's going to need a lot of prep. Derek's cock is hard, but not quite as strained and ready as it had been earlier. 

Stiles urges Derek's legs up, so he can get better access, and within a second Derek's baring all, giving him total access to his pretty pink hole. He strokes over Derek's ballsack, up massaging the base of his cock while he lets a slick finger drop down to Derek's hole. 

"Bet you're gonna be all tight, huh?" Stiles asks, smearing the lube around and stroking over it. 

"Stiles..." Derek whines, hitching his legs up higher. 

"Hush, I know what you need." He slips his thumb in as he licks a stripe over the head of Derek's dick. Derek's responding sigh is beautiful, and Stiles just goes for it. He sucks Derek's cock in, taking as much as he can in his mouth, pulling up and off it to get it as slick as he can before working down the rest of Derek's cock with his hand. 

The breathy moans pick up as Stiles turns his hand, adds more lube, and eases two fingers into Derek. He uses his thumb to press against Derek's perineum and press up from inside until Derek lets out a moan so low and filthy that Stiles feels it in his dick. 

"Yeah, yeah Derek, I got you, give it all to me." He's got two fingers scissoring Derek open, sliding in easy enough. He should probably do one more, but he knows Derek likes the stretch, the burn, and he can't wait--he's been so patient, so fucking patient. There're a series of dark patches where his cock's been resting against Derek's blue sheets. 

"Stiles, get in me," Derek demands, and Stiles wants to laugh, they're pretty much right on the same level. 

He fishes around in the crumpled bedsheets looking about for the condoms, shit shit, he shouldn't have just dropped them. "Fucking hell," he curses, sitting back on his thighs. "I can't find the fucking condoms." 

Derek laughs, lets go of his legs, reaches out, and in a fucking second he's got them. He rips one off and hands it over to Stiles. 

"Thank you," Stiles says, ripping it open, dropping the wrapper on the bed, and rolling it down his dick. The sight when he looks up makes his breath catch. Derek is lying there, legs spread, palming his cock while he watches Stiles with a kind of intensity that he's never seen on Derek before. 

He knee-walks forward, and Derek draws his legs up, offering his glistening hole to Stiles. There's no question of position. He wants Derek like this; he wants to be able to face him, to be as physically close as possible. 

He takes a deep breath as he grabs the base of his dick that jumps with excitement, because he's going to be inside Derek, he's going to be home. He leans over Derek, captures those lips in a kiss, rough stubble scraping over his cheek and his lips. "You ready?" Stiles asks, words almost lost in their kisses. 

Derek nods, clear, sharp, definite. He wants this. 

He rubs his cock in the lube smeared around Derek's hole before starting to push forward, constant pressure until the tight rim of Derek's hole gives, and his cock is sliding inside. He doesn't stop until he bottoms out. Derek breaths deafening below him. 

Stiles kisses Derek deep and lazy, tongues sliding together, Derek's mouth as welcoming as his hole. They stay there like that with Stiles enjoying the snug heat of Derek wrapped around his cock, and Derek enjoying finally being full. 

Stiles doesn't ask permission, but pulls slowly back so only the head is still inside, and thrusts back in. If it were normal, they'd probably be fucking hard and fast already, but Stiles doesn't want that. There's an urgency to this. He's hard and he wants, but he wants to draw this out, to enjoy every moment of being wrapped up in Derek. 

He thrusts in again slowly, and Derek's arms wrap around him, pulling him in closer--close enough that he can't thrust as deeply, but it's good. He can feel every breath Derek takes, every sigh and moan is in stereo. 

"Stiles..." Derek sighs and tightens his legs around Stiles. He's too fucked out to answer, so he nods, hoping Derek gets the message. He's nothing more than this--everything is Derek, every sense is Derek, every breath is Derek, every sound is Derek, everything of him is taken in my Derek. In this moment there's nothing but the two of them, and the slow thrusts, the slow rub of Derek's cock between them. It's perfect, so perfect, he never wants it to end. 

His orgasm doesn't hit him sharply, it doesn't surprise him. It's a steady roll. It builds and builds and builds with every thrust into Derek, higher and higher. When he's almost there, when it's rolling through him, rising and cresting until he doesn't think he can take any more, sending him hard into Derek as he comes. He worries about the squirming man between him for no moments, because at his peak, Derek clenches around him, wetness spurting between them, as Derek comes as well. 

They lay there panting, both still glowing, and Stiles is so reluctant to pull out. Derek can hold his weight, so he lets him for a little bit. When Stiles can finally raise his head out of the nestle of Derek's shoulder, he finds Derek's face wet with tears. 

He frowns. "Derek, what's wrong?" 

Derek shakes his head and pulls Stiles back down against him, holding him close. Stiles needs to pull out, needs to take the condom off. He waits as long as he can before pulling away, just enough to take off the condom, tie it off, and throw it in the direction of the trashcan. Derek makes a noise and pulls him back against him. (One day, he'll learn that Derek hates being empty after they fuck. One day he'll know to slip his fingers back inside until they fall asleep, but not yet, not yet.) 

They fall asleep, sweaty, come-covered and gross, but together. It'll be hell in the morning, but right now, right now everything is perfect. It's good to be home. 

* 

For their first scheduled date, Stiles and Cora go to a late-night movie marathon at the most rundown movie theater Stiles has ever been in. It's Friday night, two a.m. and the only other people in the theater are a couple of students making out in the front. 

Stiles fingers Cora while someone rages at someone else in French; Cora gets him off to a late night movie marathon. Afterward, they get burgers at Stiles' favorite diner, and then stay up ‘til dawn playing Call of Duty. Then they fuck again. Because they are responsible adults and this is how they love. 

Derek makes them breakfast when they finally stir and it's...weird, oddly domestic, and Stiles doesn't know how he got so lucky. He's twenty-one and he's happy. 

* 

His dad asks about Derek and Cora now, and sometimes when Laura calls, he stays and chats on the phone a little bit. She'll be back in the fall, and she's thinking about moving to a bigger apartment, so Stiles can have his own room. He's said it's too much, that's it's not a problem, but Laura won't be swayed. Cora goes questing with him and Scott on WoW. 

"Stiles! Get off the phone!" Cora calls from the sofa. He's lounging on her bed with the door open as he catches up with Scott. They have a weekly call set up, so even when shit gets busy they always catch up with each other. 

"Urgh, I've got to go," Stiles says, interrupting Scott telling him about the most awkward dinner he'd had with Allison's parents, his mom, and Stiles' dad. "Sorry, dude, I promised I'd have a horror movie marathon with Derek and Cora. They're waiting on the sofa. Derek even made us his special popcorn." 

Scott laughs. "No worries, man. I'll talk to you later. Give my love to Cora and Derek." 

The reminder of everyone knowing each other makes something warm wrap itself around Stiles' heart. 

"Stiles! Hurry up!" Derek shouts. "The popcorn's getting cold, and we still haven’t picked a movie." 

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Stiles replies, then quieter to Scott. "Yeah, man, will do. Love you, and give my love to Allison." 

He hangs up and wanders into the living room. Cora and Derek are both crammed on the sofa, but there's a space left between them that's just big enough for Stiles to fit into. He drops down into it, and Derek places the popcorn bowl onto his lap. 

"So, what're the choices?" He takes a handful of popcorn and shoves it into his mouth. Shit, it's the salty and sweet stuff, Derek's a genius. 

"Well, I want to watch _American Werewolf in Paris_ , but Derek wants to watch _American Werewolf in London_." Cora holds up both cases, one solemn and dark, the other with a fire and a cross on the front. "You pick!" 

Stiles frowns. "I can't believe you guys want to watch either of these. Wouldn't you rather watch _Interview with the Vampire_?" 

"What? Why?" Derek grabs some popcorn and swipes the remote control off of Cora. 

"Well, y'know. It doesn't have werewolves." It's not a big thing, just not something he'd expected them to pick; then again, he loves _Hannibal_ and that makes some humans look like monsters. 

"Uh...I don't get it?" Cora looks up at Derek like Stiles is crazy. "What are we not getting here?" 

Stiles rolls his eyes, grabs more popcorn. "Y'know, the thing we don't talk about?" 

"Stiles, I have no idea what the hell you're talking about." 

Stiles sighs, put-upon, are they really going to make him spell this out? "Well, I just don't see why two werewolves want to watch a movie where the werewolves are the bad guys." 

Cora and Derek both just freeze. _Whoa, did they actually think he didn't know?_

"We're not--" Cora starts, defensively. 

"It's fine. Seriously guys, did you really not think I'd noticed by now? The amount of things you pass off as 'Hale family traits'--your healing, your moods around the full moons, your strength, and don't get me started on the amount of time we've been, y'know, and your eyes flash...I swear, it was either werewolves or some sort of weird supersoldiers. I was kinda hoping for werewolves." 

There's more stunned silence, and Stiles sighs. "Look, this is why I didn't bring it up. It's not like it's a big deal? Unless you're going to start eating innocent people, or turning me. Which...I'm pretty sure you're not?" 

Derek swallows audibly. "Laura...she's the only one who can turn people." 

Stiles nods. "I'd figured she was kind of the boss, kind of the...leader?" 

"Alpha," Cora answers from his other side. "She's our alpha." Then she groans. "Oh god, Laura is going to kill us." 

Derek sighs. Stiles turns to see him nodding his head in agreement with Cora. 

"If it helps I can pretend I don't know?" Stiles offers, shoving more popcorn into his mouth. 

"She'll know you know; she can tell when we lie," Cora laments. 

"Man, that makes Laura like at least ten times scarier." He pauses. "So, are we gonna watch a movie or not? If you're good with werewolves, why don't we watch them both? We've got the time. We've got all the time." 

Cora puts the movie in, and Derek hits play. Stiles spends the evening being aggressively cuddled by two werewolves while watching tacky horror films. Somehow this is his life, and somehow it's kind of perfect. 

**Epilogue**

"Derek! You can carry more than that!" Stiles shouts from the steps. 

"Stiles!" Derek growls. "Why don't you try picking up a box, it won't kill you!" 

As his boyfriend and girlfriend are both werewolves, he is fully taking advantage of that during the house move to be in more of a supervisory position. 

"No, no. I'm just a weak and fragile..." He looks around and spots what looks like one of their new neighbors. "...Stiles,” he corrects. 

The neighbor is definitely heading this direction. “You and Cora are both much more suited to do the heavy lifting. I'm better at dealing with people." 

He grins and turns to face their new neighbor. She's tiny and frail, and must be about seventy. "Hello, ma'am!" Stiles greets her, holding out a hand. 

"Well hello, so very nice to meet you..." She looks up to Derek, who is looking particularly fetching today, just in a tank top in the hot summer sun. 

"Stiles," he supplies. "And this is Derek." 

"Ah, are you--" She doesn't get to finish her sentence because Cora comes out. 

It's kind of distracting, the way she's wiping sweat off her brow with the hem of her tank top, showing her toned abs for all to see. Stiles coughs, trying not to get a hard on in front of their new elderly neighbor. 

The old lady is looking between the three of them, and he can see her trying to figure it out--who lives here? Who's just helping them move? 

Stiles takes pity on her. This is always the moment where they tend to lose people. He's not apprehensive, but he is, because he's excited about this move. It's been years, and he's so sick of the moment where he tells people about having Cora and Derek, and they start asking him how they feel about him cheating on them, or if it’s just because he's bi. Their reactions, their opinions are never gonna make him change. He's never gonna stop loving them; he just likes to know if someone's going to be bigoted before he spends time getting to know them. 

"This is my girlfriend, Cora," he introduces her. The old lady and Cora shake hands. 

He turns to Derek, re-introduces him. "And this is my boyfriend, Derek." 

The old woman freezes for a second, but quickly recovers, reaching out and shaking his hand with a smile on her face. There's no coldness in her voice; it's just as warm as before. Stiles can't help but feel relieved. "Nice to meet you, Derek. I'm Mary, and aren't you a lucky boy, Stiles, hm?" 

He laughs, mood brightening. "Yeah, yeah I am."

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr, [saspiesas.tumblr.com](http://saspiesas.tumblr.com)!


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